Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim
by Eaving1989
Summary: The Force weaves the threads of life and destiny in great patterns. Times of crisis call for a hero to be found. Revan's time for glory has past and now a new hero must take her place and save the galaxy... or enslave it. K2 novelisaton. For older readers
1. Prophecy the Pariah

o.00.o

The first is a trail

A test of blood;

To awaken bequeathed legacy

That slumbers within.

o.00.o

Shadows Hunger

And Pain awaits its turn;

While Betrayal remains nameless

The Galaxy will burn.

o.00.o

Choices change worlds

And strangers will gather;

To follow but a single banner,

Sign of the Pariah.

o.00.o

Relearn forgotten teachings

Remember forsaken steps;

The key is to evolve beyond these ties,

Grow into what blood and legacy dictates.

o.00.o

Lost light awaits its turn to burn

Take up the blazing sword;

Not in the name of lost order,

But to restore the dying world.

o.00.o

--Prophecy of the Pariah

--Found during the War of the Separation

_ --Anonymous _


	2. Humble Beginnings

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 1: Humble Beginnings

* * *

**Peragus: Med-bay…**

_Awaken…_

The word drifted through her consciousness and like a pebble dropped into a pond, it sent ripples through her body, bringing the soft buzz of life to her forgotten limbs. First she tested her extremities, wiggling her fingers and toes, then clenching and unclenching her hands. Next she tested the flexion and extension of her arms and legs, bringing them towards and away from her body, blissfully ignorant of anything else outside her wonderful, weightless existence.

As her mind slowly returned, so did her instincts. Her body jerked as she tried to gulp air, only sucking in thick, cold sludge. _Kolto_… the word arose unbidden in her blank mind, giving a name to the liquid filling her mouth and lungs. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, move words began to form in her mind, along with images and a sense of self.

_Harbinger_…_Telos_…_Republic_…

_Falen_…Yes, that was her name… but where was she?

Languidly she stretched out her arms, both soon coming into contact with a barrier. Kolto and walls… _Frak!_ She was in a kolto tank. In a desperate attempt to escape the tank she kicked and bucked, smashing her knee against a wall in the process. In the end her attempt was successful, and the kolto around her began to churn and swirl. The tank was draining.

Falen waited patiently as the tank slowly emptied, and she was softly deposited on the cold, wet floor. Resenting gravity and missing her former buoyancy she struggled froward on her hands and knees, abandoning all sense of dignity. Blinded and weak by over-exposure to kolto she blundered forward, getting personal with a solid wall. Gingerly rubbing her injured nose she redirected herself and spat out a string of curses unbefitting a woman, let alone the lowliest space scum.

Once Falen had finally crawled out of her tank she doubled over, her body forcing the kolto out of her lungs. She retched and coughed, unsightly strings of the blue healing liquid hanging from her chin. Wiping them away with the back of her hand she collapsed onto the cold durasteel flooring, resolving to lay there for the rest of her life.

That resolution died quickly however, the cold floor was beginning to burn her damp skin. With trembling fingers she pried her eyes open and focused on evening her breathing as she waited for her vision to clear. Lights and shadows wavered before her eyes; shapes slowly came into focus, colours and definition following soon after.

Shakily she rose to her knees, then to her feet. Once she was standing she shook herself, trying to dissipate her lethargy. Blood pounded in her head, almost splitting her skull in two. With a strangled moan she limped to the nearest kolto tank, collapsing against the transparasteel. She clung to the tank with such vehemence it was as if it were a long lost lover returning from the war. Eventually her world stopped pitching and Bantha's were no longer dancing about in her head. Releasing her breath she stopped clinging to the kolto tank and examined what was inside.

A man floated serenely inside, the red glow on the floor panels indicating his deceased status. Looking him over with a practised eye Falen sighed, with extensive injuries and burns the guy hadn't stood a chance, even if they'd placed him in a kolto tank.

Speaking of '_they'_…Falen looked around the bay - it was obviously a med-bay, she told herself – looking for personnel, but it was deserted. It was only her, four floating cadavers and a big durasteel door. Taking a deep breath, grounding herself and focusing solely on the door Falen took a few cautious steps forwards, at least she was no longer trembling… that had to be progress.

Immensely proud that she had reached the door without incident, Falen gave a triumphant laugh before pressing the door's central mechanism. It opened with a reluctant hiss, revealing another deserted section of the Med-lab. She walked forwards cautiously, gauging her surroundings and careful not to overexert herself. To her right was a locked door and to her left was and observation widow. Catching a glimpse of herself in the window she gasped in horror.

What in _Frak's name_ was she _wearing_? While not particularly vain, every woman had her limits, and whoever had put her in the awful green sack-like jumpsuit had pushed Falen's limits. She wracked her memory, trying to remember what it was and where the green monstrosity had come from. _Standard issue Republic jumpsuit, _her memory provided.

"No wonder those Republic officers are so irritable" She muttered darkly to her reflection, "They have to wear these constantly"

Moving on she passed the locked door, coming to another door a little further down, it obviously led to the Medical Office. Ignoring the smoking door at to one side she entered the office looking for something, anything, supplies or information. Luckily she found both. Inside the office there was an active consol –she couldn't help but grin at her good fortune- a lab station, medpacks and the tattered remains of her clothes. They were charred in places, ripped in others and unutterably unwearable.

With a soft, self-piteous wail Falen wanted to fall into a puddle of self-pity but her pride prevailed. She'd lived through worse and she'd be damned if she was going to let a few shredded clothes get the best of her. With steely resolve settling in her stomach she marched to the consol and ran through its options.

Watching the holo-logs gave her the information she had been searching for. Here was a mining facility, they thought she was a Jedi and then there had been a problem with the ventilation systems. She'd never heard of the _Ebon Hawk_, but then that just gave her something else to investigate.

Feeling better with a purpose she opened the morgue door and continued her search. Falen had seen her share of morgues and they all looked the same, cold, colourless and impersonal. Inside this morgue only two gurneys bore bodies. The one nearest to the door bore one of an old woman. Looking over the deceased woman Falen found no obvious cause of death, it seemed it was a natural. Passing by the woman Falen leaned over the remaining corpse. It was covered in a make-shift shroud and she pulled in back gingerly.

The corpse was so badly burnt in places that gender was impossible to distinguish. Immune to the sight of death Falen examined the body further, grinning as she discovered a working plasma torch hooked into the cadaver's belt. With respect she placed the shroud back over the remains and wished the person peace, it was the least she could do. A quick flick of her thumb ignited the plasma torch and she watched it burn for seconds before switching it back off.

Behind her she sensed stirrings and could hear the rustle of material. Wondering if she had missed someone, she re-ignited the torch and spun around in a single fluid movement, adrenalin pumping through her veins. The old woman was getting of her gurney!

"Zombie!" Falen cried, almost dropping the burning torch on her foot.

The elderly woman watched her with an unamused expression. Hiding her milky-white eyes behind a hood, the woman stopped observed Falen, who was standing there wide-eyed. Once the woman's observations had come to an end she spoke, her voice sage like and heavy with hard-earned knowledge.

"Find what you were looking for amongst the dead?"

_It's talking!_ Falen's mind screamed, but she kept her face blank. A realisation dawned upon her as she thought of an answer.

"You're voice- I heard it as I floated in the kolto tank"

The woman looked pleased. "I had overslept and must have reached out unconsciously – and your mind must have been a willing one"

Falen raised a slim eyebrow sceptically, not believing what she was hearing. "So you can touch minds… and feign death. Who are you?"

"I am Kreia" the woman replied, "And I am your rescuer – as you are mine. Tell me – do you recall what happened?"

"Hey!" Falen snapped, highly unsettled by this _Kreia_, the talking corpse. "I'm the one asking the questions. How did I get here?"

"I confess I know little more that you do" Kreia answered, truth ringing in her tone. "I do not know where here is. I do recall rescuing you… the Republic ship you were on was attacked, and you were the only survivor. A result of your Jedi training, no doubt"

"I am no longer a member of the Jedi Order" Falen replied coldly, indicating the subject closed.

Kreia cocked her head questioningly, "Your stance, your walk tells me you are a Jedi. Your walk is heavy; you carry something that weighs you down"

This Kreia was pushing all the wrong buttons. "Let's deal with the now. What is this place?"

Kreia talked on and on, showing stamina for conversation that rivalled only the Jedi Masters. Falen stalked out of the morgue, a dark look on her face. It was a long time since anyone had given her orders, and Kreia the talking corpse had handed them out like candy. Find transport, weapons, information, clothes…

"Why don't I go and find the fraking Queen of Naboo while I'm at it?"

Muttering darkly to herself all the way down the hall, Falen wielded the plasma torch with devastating accuracy, ending the life of the twitchy, smoky door. She could feel the beginnings of a headache simmering at the base of her skull and groaned. This was _not_ her day.

Her mood picked up slightly when she found a vibroblade, thinking it would definitely improve her chances. Next she found droids, the battles was brief, some she dispatched by stomping down hard on what passed for their head and the others got to make friends with her blade.

* * *

**Peragus: Administration Level…**

After much droid fluid was shed, she had finally found the override switch, which cancelled out the remaining droids aggressive behaviour and opened up the door to the holding cells. She sauntered towards the door, chatting idly with the droid who tottered along beside her.

Her ears were ringing, and she could often hear faint echoes, like a sound reverberating over a great distance. She knew it was the Force, it was so familiar, and yet it felt wrong. She had lost the Force, been exiled, it wasn't right that she found it again, was it? It was times like these she missed her old friends, there was a pang of sadness as she thought of them. Revan and Kavar had always been there to answer her questions and listen to her problems. She wondered where they were now. How much had they changed over the past nine years?

"…_Ah… beyond this door someone yet lives…_"

Falen almost jumped out of her skin as Kreia's voice sounded within her mind. Her heart was beating madly, and she fisted a hand to her chest trying to slow it down, mentally cursing Kreia.

"_Be mindful…his thoughts are…difficult to read… but you have nothing to fear from this one…and he might yet prove useful…"_

Nodding dismissively Falen waited her heartbeat to return to normal, took three deep breaths and opened the door. Inside was a man in a force cage, his head snapped up as she entered.

"Nice outfit – what, you miners change regulation uniforms while I've been in here?"

The first thing she noticed about him was his eyes, big russet orbs that were friendly, imploring and cocky at the same time. He was tall and gorgeous, broad shouldered and lanky but far from skinny. Think brown hair was sexily rumpled around his raw-boned face. His mouth was full and sculptured, now curved in a lazy, mocking smile that made her want to bloody it.

"You wouldn't happen to be the Queen of Naboo?" Falen asked randomly, a mischievous smile on her face.

"I… What?" He stared at her blankly for a moment before his eyes made a slow circuit of her body, lingering too long in too many places.

"Never mind, just keep your eyes up and tell me who you are"

"Atton… Atton Rand. Excuse me if I don't shake hands. The field only causes minor electrical burns"

She ignored the sarcasm, but somehow she'd managed to fulfil one of his personal fantasies and he'd managed to convince her to let him go. She hacked industriously away at the consol, all the while feeling his eyes scanning her body. Maybe Kreia had been on the credits when suggesting she extend her search to some clothes.

He watched her openly as she worked the consol, an appreciative smile on his face. She was tall, great body… more curves than a twi'lek dancer. Her head was bent over the consol, black hair pulled back into an unusual gold bound bun, twin braids swaying in front of her ear as her head moved. The force field around his wavered then disappeared, and she stepped back from the consol, her full lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. Her piercing amber eyes were heavy lidded and slanted, sitting on high cheekbones. She wasn't exceptionally beautiful, he'd seen prettier, but there was something about her… a sense of power… a sense of something _more_.

She looked flustered, irritated and embarrassed. Like a sexy faerie, Atton thought, who'd had a particularly bad day.

He stepped out of the deactivated force cage and grinned down at her, noticing kolto clinging to her long lashes like glass tears and loving the view. Falen was shocked at his height now he was standing next to her; he'd looked smaller in the cage. Falen herself was 5'9 and proud of her height, but this man had at least six inches on her.

"Big guy aren't you?" She said perplexedly, desperately trying to ignore the attraction pulling at her stomach. She could see the sparkle in his brown eyes that indicated the attraction was mutual, whether this was a bad thing she was yet to decide.

A broad grin spread across his face and he winked down at her, "In more ways then one, gorgeous"

_Sleazebag_… With a roll of her eyes Falen stalked off. Atton sauntered languidly behind her, enjoying the indignant sway of feminine hips. She led him to the Communications blister, pointing to the central terminal.

"Get to work"

He nodded grudgingly before sliding into the seat and working his magic on the active terminal. He was talking but Falen couldn't hear him, she was too caught up in her own thoughts.

There had been a war between Jedi; Revan had killed Malak… they had been _Sith_! So much had changed in her absence. A great sense of isolation washed over her, what had become of her friends and her former life? Malak had betrayed Revan; she should have been there to protect her friends, from themselves and each other. It was as if all life had moved on without her, she was forgotten and all those she loved were probably dead.

In her desperation Falen sank heavily into a chair, resting her elbows on the consol, before hanging her head in her hands. She could feel the tears coming, pushing their way up but with every ounce of determination within her she pushed them back. She hadn't cried in over nine years and she wasn't going to breakdown now, half-naked in front of a total stranger.

His hand was on her shoulder, shaking gently. He smelled of stale sweat, old cigarra smoke and male. Arranging her face into a façade of indifference she faced him, momentarily thrown of balance by the concern in his brown eyes.

"We've been severed from the main hudd. This level is completely isolated"

She rose smoothly from her chair, shrugging his hand of her shoulder as she did so. She pushed all emotion to the back of her mind and set herself on autopilot, a small tingling of premonition telling her she was in for a long, hard slog.

* * *

**A/N:** Okie, I've started my novelisation from scratch andI swearI plan to continue this one! Read and review, you people know the drill, lol. More chapters coming real soon. 


	3. Bruises

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 2: Bruises

* * *

**Ebon Hawk: En route to Telos…ETA: 6:57:04**

"That woman had to have been a Jedi Master" Falen muttered as she walked out of the dormitory Kreia had decided to occupy, "Nobody else could talk for that long…"

She made her way back to the cockpit pondering Kreia's words, smiling to T3 as she passed the battered astromech droid. She and Kreia were bonded, not a surprise considering the hand incident. Kreia had also expanded on Atton's rather brief description of the Jedi Civil War. Guilt washed over Falen as she though of the war she had missed, she should have been there to help her friends, no matter their allegiance. Instead she had acted the coward, accepting her exile without complaint and leaving all she loved behind.

Falen reached the cockpit, her knees weak from bracing against the shockwaves that had formerly rocked the Hawk. They had just destroyed a whole _planet_!

That way lay madness…

She considered sitting in the co-pilots chair, but instead opted for resting her arms on the back of Atton's chair.

"How's our passenger? She still aging?"

Falen nodded tiredly, "For someone without much to say, she sure says a lot"

"Yeah, to you maybe. I don't usually hear much beyond 'fool' and 'imbecile'. She's lucky she's a Jedi, or someone would've killed her years ago. I mean, how old do you think she is? She may have been good-looking once, but it takes some hard living to make creases like that."

She laughed softly before patting him companionably on the shoulder, "If she looks good to you, you must have taken a blaster hit when I wasn't looking"

Atton smiled, allowing laughter to creep into his voice. "Hey, I just got out of prison. If we had a decent navicomputer, trust me, we'd be dropping out of hyperspace into the Nar Shaddaa Red Sector right now. After spacing that old witch of course…"

"Look, ease off the insults. She was wounded helping us escape remember?" Falen snapped.

"Whoa, all right, all right! Don't get mad at me. Hey, I didn't ask her to stay behind and get her hand cut off, okay?"

Falen rolled her eyes, "Getting empathy from you is like squeezing water from a stone"

"Oh yeah? Well, how much water you get from a stone depends on what planet you're on, sister" Atton retorted playfully.

Falen sighed tiredly, massaging her aching temples with deft fingers. "Forget it. Just keep your mind on piloting this crate"

"You call this piloting? This is nothing – if Peragus had any place other than Telos in its astrogation charts, trust me, that's where we'd be headed"

Without a hitch he turned the subject to their destination, "If you thought Peragus was dead, then Telos is a dying world that they're trying to breathe back to life. We should be there before too long…"

He turned in his seat to look up at her, "You look exhausted, go sleep somewhere"

Falen nodded jadedly, "All right, I'll do that".

She didn't move… Talk about the road to madness…

After moments of comfortable silence, Atton's voice sounded, a welcome break from the beeps of the piloting consoles. "So…What happened?"

"To what?" Falen was confused, had she missed something?

Atton ground out a frustrated sigh, "Don't give me that. There were plenty of times back on Peragus where a lightsabre would have been helpful. So – where's your's?"

When she replied Falen's voice was detached and cold, but Atton could hear the despair in her dulcet tones. "Exiles aren't allowed to keep their lightsabre's…"

Ignoring her cold tone Atton continued and Falen was grateful for the distraction, "Oh yeah? I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsabre. Guess I heard wrong. Were you a single hilt or one of those double-bladed Jedi?"

"It was a single hilt" Even as she spoke Falen could fell the weight of the blade in her hand… she could hear the _hiss_ as the beam ignited…

"_Hnh_" Atton snorted, "It wasn't red, was it?"

She could feel the soft heat of the luminescent beam… _Ghosts_, just ghosts, she told herself. Memories, nothing more… "Both the blade and the crystal were unique"

Atton was intrigued, "Yeah, unique how?"

"A yellow lightsabre, a Sentinel's blade"

He continued, trying to lighten the sudden sombre mood "Must have been something. Sure be nice to have it now – might make those Sith think twice before coming after us"

"I think having it would just drive them to hunt me harder" her voice was sad but there was an undertone of steel.

With his back to her Atton grinned, by the sound of the resolve in her voice those Sith didn't know what they had gotten themselves into. Behind him Falen stifled a yawn and he turned in his seat to face her once again.

"Drax, you're dead on your feet. Go sleep"

He eyed her outfit speculatively from his seat. The once pristine miner's uniform was now a mess. It was covered in droid fluids, blood, blaster burns and ripped in several places. With a sigh he slipped out if his chair and shrugged off his ribbed jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. Keeping his hands firmly on her shoulders Atton steered her out of the cockpit, Falen was too exhausted to do anything but obey.

He marched her into the main hold, setting her down on one of the loveseats.

She gave him a sleepy, thankful smile before brushing off his hands and pointing in the direction of the cockpit.

"I'll be fine, now go and fly the ship"

He nodded, eyeing the hold critically. There was no danger, plus she was close at hand in case he had need of her assistance.

"Out, Rand"

* * *

An hour later Atton emerged from the cockpit to see if he could find anything edible aboard the _Ebon Hawk_, he also decided to check on his sleeping Jedi.

He found Falen where he had left her, although since he had gone she'd removed her tattered miner's uniform. It now lay in a blue and green puddle on the floor. She was curled up on the seat, his jacked wrapped tightly about her. Letting his gaze travel Atton was shocked to see the amount of bruises that were rising on her flesh. Her legs were covered with them, big angry bluish marks, and her arms weren't in better condition.

As he watched she stretched languidly in her sleep before rolling over and running out of seat, Falen landed with a soft _thud_ on the durasteel floors.

"Wasznguf?" She mumbled sleepily, her voice muffled with floor.

Atton chuckled as he bent down to haul her to her feet. Placing firm hands under her arms, he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing. He set her down on her feet, keeping his hands on her arms in case she fell over. Blood oozed slowly from a small gash on her cheek, but she was otherwise unhurt.

She looked up at him dazedly, her golden eyes bleary with sleep. Falen rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand, gazing indifferently at the crimson streak of blood across her hand. She gave a defeated sigh and let her head fell against his chest, Atton acutely aware of the closeness of her body. In an instant her legs buckled and all of Falen's weight fell against him. He struggled to stay upright as her dead weight sagged against his body; he knew he was a dead man if he simply dropped her.

"Shit" Atton muttered as he could feel himself starting to fall backwards. He couldn't find his balance with her entire bodyweight pressing against his chest. Luckily for Atton as he staggered backwards he slammed into the holo-projector, the solid metal giving him a decent backing with which to correct his balance.

Atton leaned against the projector for a few moments, catching his breath and redistributing Falen's weight against his torso. Falen slowly awoke from her dead faint to find herself pressed against her new companion's chest, his heart beating in her ear and her head spinning like an out of control swoop bike.

Startled Falen wretched herself out of Atton's iron grasp and staggered backwards drunkenly. Her slanted eyes were slits of silent accusation.

"Hands off" She murmured, dangerously quiet.

Atton could see the marks of his hands on her upper arms. Guilt flooded him, quickly followed by indignation.

"Hey! You collapsed against me remember?"

Falen pressed her palms to her temples groaning, and it was then Atton noticed the pain etched on her features. Her skin was unnaturally pale, the bruises mottled blue marks of anger upon her flesh. Her trembling body snapped rigid and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Once again her knees buckled from under her and Falen fell to the floor in a heap.

"Frak!"

Repeating the muttered curse Atton fell to his knees by Falen. He pillowed her head on his knees, his hands checking her vital signs with quick, practised movements. She had a pulse, but it was faint and rapid, and her breathing was shallow.

There's definitely something wrong with you Drax" He muttered dryly as he worked, smacking her lightly on the check to try and wake her up.

"Fool! What have you done to her?"

Kreia marched into the hold, her thing lips set into a barely visible line of displeasure. Atton jumped to his feet in anger at her appearance. Ignoring Atton's dark glare she dropped down beside her fallen student, checking her vital signs, muttering a diagnosis as she did so.

Atton balled his fists and glared at the old woman. He didn't trust this old witch, didn't trust Jedi in general, and if she called him 'fool' one more time…

"Pick her up and follow me"

He growled at the derogatory tone in her bitter voice but complied, his concern for the woman on the floor the driving force behind his acquiescence. Stooping, he placed on arm under Falen's knees, the other under her arms. Supporting her head with his shoulder, Atton pushed all thoughts of soft female flesh from his mind and followed Kreia silently as she led him from the main hold into the med bay.

Without thinking Atton lay her down carefully on the single cot and stepped back quickly, shocked by the overwhelming concern he felt for Falen. It had been a long time since he'd felt this concerned for a single person other than himself.

"Go" Kreia waved him away with a quick swipe of her gnarled hand, "Go find a use for yourself somewhere, for there is no use for you here"

"I'm not leaving her here alone with you!" Atton countered, not daring back down against the old witch. Her hidden eyes bored into his face, he couldn't see them but he could _feel_ them upon his skin.

"Mind me fool, I'm far more powerful than you believe, I will not tolerate your insolence for long"

"I'm not leaving" He snapped stubbornly, sensing the agitation rolling of Kreia in waves.

Inside Kreia was calculating… this fool's misplaced sense of loyalty towards the Exile could benefit her plans. With the right leverage this fool could become her puppet… _how useful_. Playing her part Kreia ground out a frustrated sigh, and turned to the work of healing the Exile.

Falen was impossibly pale upon the med bay cot, her dark hair a disturbing contrast to her pallid flesh. Fresh pink scars were everywhere, interlacing with older faded white scars.

What's wrong with her?" Atton asked cautiously.

"She has pushed herself beyond her limits. After five days without eating, four of those in a kolto tank, she strained her already weak body in our escape of Peragus. The amount of blood she lost during the escape did not help her condition"

Kreia placed her hand upon the unconscious woman's body,her remaining hand resting on her forehead, while the stump of the other in the valley between her breasts. The old woman hung her head, concentrating at the dilapidated flesh under her fingers. She channelled the Force through her fingertips, manipulating the extremely fatigued and dehydrated tissue, healing any injuries she found.

Atton watched guardedly, drowning in his own mistrust, concern and curiosity. Falen's back arched, her lips working soundlessly under Kreia's ministrations. The pink scars quickly healed, leaving smooth, unblemished skin in their wake. Eventually she slumped, her face taking on the peacefulness of sleep. Kreia stepped back, exhaustion deepening the etched lines of her face.

"She will sleep now. Leave her be, the rest will help her heal, if only slightly"

With that, as unexpectedly as she had arrived, she departed from the med bay. Atton sighed in relief as she disappeared from view, glad to be out of the old crone's presence. He watched Falen's steady breathing for a few moments, secretly relieved to see a healthy colour retuning to her skin.

Even though he was alone, he still felt very self-conscious as he pulled the coverlet over her exposed body, tucking her in like a child.

"You're one strange woman Drax- brave, gorgeous and absolutely crazy…"

A smile curved her full lips, one slanted eye cracked open, revealing a slit of hazy gold.

"Frak off, Rand" she mumbled, rolled over and fell promptly to sleep.

* * *

**Ebon Hawk: Cockpit…**

Atton stretched back in his chair, pillowing his head on his hands. Outside Telos loomed, half of the planet's surface a scarred sickly cerise, Citadel Station clinging to the dying planet like some paradoxical parasite.

Automatic docking codes beeped their arrival on the Hawk's computers, and Atton began the slow decent towards the Station's public docking bays. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching down the corridor and stiffened in his chair, waiting to see who this visitor was. A familiar weight rested on the back of his chair and he instantly relaxed.

"Well if it isn't sleeping beauty"

"Up yours, Rand" Falen snapped sleepily above his head.

"Wow that was so original, so succinct. I can instantly see why you made such a brilliant Jedi"

"Smartarse" She retorted and smacked him lightly in the side of the head before collapsing into the co-pilot's chair. She was wrapped in the blankets from the med bay cot and looking a lot healthier than when he'd last seen her. Falen cocooned herself in the warm grey coverlets, her face lost in the recesses of the pale grey material.

"Are we there yet?" She whined from the shelter of her blankets.

"Yep" Atton replied as he lowered the landing gear.

"Good. As soon as we land we're eating. I swear I could manage a whole Ronto"

"You and me both, sister"

Atton brought the _Hawk_ gently down into the landing bay, a squirming ball of emotions in his stomach. Attraction, concern and respect… All for the woman next to him, deep down there was trust as well. He didn't trust anyone, let alone a Jedi and yet… he trusted her with everything he had. Irked by these strange, suddenly strong emotions Atton buried them, not wanting to acknowledge that the attractive, foul-mouthed, grumpy woman next to him had somehow gotten under his skin.

* * *

**A/N: **Well that's chapter two… It's going to get better I swear! _puppy dog eyes_

This chapter was brought to you by Tropical Pepsi and the shuffle function on my media player…WOOHOO! _Sigh_ What would I do without my shuffle function...Hrmmm, too much Pepsi methinks… There will be a mucho mucho shockingly shocking shock coming on Nar Shaddaa, one I am very proud of _Sparkly grin_. Keep your eyesies peeled!

Bangs the table along with Mother Mayhem.

SQUEE!


	4. Jailbirds

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 3: Jailbirds

* * *

**Telos: TSF Detention Cells…**

Falen was sure she'd never been happier to see a plate of slop. The brown mush the TSF officers had given to her was questionable at best, but to her starved mind it was delicious. She had wolfed down her portion in record time, asking for seconds and thirds as well, Atton not far behind her in his hunger. The female officers had also banded together to provide her with a set of clothes and respectable underwear, for that she was tremendously grateful.

Now clothed and fed, Falen felt herself begin to tire, the warm food in her stomach pulling her down into sleep. There wasn't enough room in her cage to stretch out and she considered curling up in a ball. To her left, in his own force cage, Atton watched her mental deliberation with weary eyes, his own body on the verge of exhaustion.

Coming to a decision Falen lay on her side, pulling her knees against her chest and resting her head on her outstretched arm. From where Atton sat she looked strangely vulnerable and yet extremely delicate, as if squeezing her too tightly might cause her to shatter into a thousand pieces. The overwhelming urge to hold her grabbed him, it wasn't the usual urge of lust or desire, -they were certainly there- but he wanted to protect her… keep her safe… and that's what frightened him the most.

Was it normal to want to protect a woman you had only known for two days? He wasn't sure… but he didn't like the direction his feeling seemed to be heading. _Stupid feelings_…it seemed they only existed to get him in trouble.

In her cage Kreia stirred, her head snapping up as she awoke from her meditation. She stood smoothly, with amazing ease of someone her age, straightening her robes before speaking.

"Someone is coming."

Both Falen and Atton broke out of their respective dazes at her words, climbing haltingly to their feet, Falen staggering slightly in her fatigue. On cue the doors to the holding cells opened, revealing a dark haired TSF officer, a self-assured smile on his face. Unfazed, Falen made to sit down again but the man walked closer to her cage, eyeing her through the electrical field. His gaze ranked her body and face, a lustful smile clinging to the corners of his thin lips. Falen's eyes hardened and Atton's growled dangerously.

"So this is the 'Last of the Jedi'. I must admit, I'm a little disappointed." His voice was soft and monotone, quietly confident.

"Let me out of this cage and we'll see hoe disappointed you are." Falen snarled, her eyes ablaze.

"Doubtful, though at least it appears you have some spirit. The Exchange has a bounty on Jedi, you know. You're worth quite a bit of money." The man replied, his tone condescending.

"The Exchange, Huh?" Atton questioned, wanting to turn the man's gaze away from Falen, "I'm pretty sure some two-bit pistol jockey like yourself isn't one of them."

The man didn't rise to the challenge, his voice stayed emotionless, "I'm more than skilled enough to work for the Exchange."

Atton snapped angrily, "You bounty hunters couldn't even win a fair fight. You're the cheapest, most worthless mercenary scum in the galaxy. I'd hire a Mandalorian over your filth in a second."

While the assassin's face remained calm, his eyes gave away the fact he was slightly miffed by Atton's scathing comments, "No Mandalorian could match my skills. No Mandalorian could have been clever enough to infiltrate this station, taken the identity of one of the guards, then…"

"And then what?" Atton goaded, "Overloaded our force cage fields and make it look like an accident? You probably don't even have the guts to fight me. _Heh_. Pathetic."

Falen shook her head madly in Atton's direction, beads swaying frantically, "Don't give him any ideas!"

"Don't think overloading your force cages had not occurred to me" the man replied, "You're wanted alive, but I doubt anyone will mind as long as I bring them your corpse."

"We're in a TSF station. How do you expect to get away with this?" She queried, desperately trying to distract the man long enough to think of a plan.

"The security cameras have mysteriously shorted out. There will be no witnesses to your escape attempt, during which I'll have to be forced to kill you. By the time the TSF realize I'm not one of them, I will be far from this place."

"I have no wish to fight you." She replied placidly.

The assassin grinned, moving to the control consol, calling to her over his shoulder, "Easier for me, then. Come, 'Jedi.' It is time to die."

"Hey, leave her alone – you want a fight? Then try me, if you've got the guts."

"You have goaded me once, and you shall not do so twice. But I shall dispose of all of you eventually. And an old woman, a fool, and a broken Jedi are no match for my skills."

The electric fields to their cages wavered, and the instant they disappeared the assassin opened fire. Despite her exhaustion Falen managed to avoid his shots, soon getting close enough to grab at him. She lunged for his throat, overreached and missed, the assassin bringing the butt of his blaster to the back of her skull. She tumbled to her knees, clutching her reeling head. Expecting a killing blow any second, Falen was shocked when none arrived. She looked up to find Atton fighting strongly in her stead. One of his hands groped down, pulling her to her feet while the other collided with the assassin's jaw with a sickly _thud_.

Thrown off by the power behind the hit the assassin staggered backwards, only to meet with a waiting Kreia. Using the Force the old woman picked him up off the ground, her hand clenching, constricting his internal organs. The assassin floated, his arms flailing madly and eyes bulging as he spluttered.

"You ok, Drax?" Atton asked anxiously, tilting Falen's head down to examine the rising lump on the back of her head. She nodded and pulled out of his hands, touched by his concern.

"Put him down, Kreia." The change in her voice was drastic, her normal pleasant tones turned to stone.

Obliging, the crone released the flailing assassin, who landed in an unimpressive heap on the floor. Hooking her foot under his torso Falen flipped the crippled man onto his back, her eyes piercing yet detached.

"Atton" She called, her tone authoritarian and leaving no room for dispute, "Hold him down."

"Gladly" He growled, stomping a great botted foot onto the man's exposed chest.

The dying assassin looked up at Falen sadly, his voice raspy and pained, "I-I guess I underestimated you Jedi."

Falen stared unemotionally before bringing her foot down upon his throat with all the force she could muster, crushing the would-be assassin's windpipe instantly. He bucked and gargled, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth as his lungs filled with blood. Atton removed his foot from the man's chest and pulled Falen with him, his hand staying clasped on her elbow as they stepped away.

For the umpteenth time she wrenched herself out of his grip, one hand holding her aching head. Falen stared at the still corpse for a moment, beginning to shake. This was the first life she had taken is nine years- she disregarded the Sith assassins because they just _weren't_ human. Had it been necessary to kill him? _Yes_, she had known that much. Bounty hunters were ruthless and the promise of credits had them coming back until they had finally claimed their prize- and she had no intention of becoming some Exchange boss' caged prize.

So lost in her own thoughts Falen jumped when the doors opened suddenly. Lieutenant Grenn marched in; two officers trailing in his aggravated wake.

"The security cameras ha- what! What's going on here?"

His eyes widened in shock as he noticed the body of the assassin, still clad in TSF uniform, lying lifeless on the floor. Behind him the eyes of his officers widened, zeroing in on Falen accusingly.

"Man down! Quick, call a medic!" The male officer cried over his shoulder as he kneeled down next to the corpse.

Grenn sighted his weapon on Falen, his voice composed as he spoke, "All right, 'Jedi'- I want you to back up slowly, hands in front of you, into the force cage. Cooperate, and we won't have to gun you down."

Disorientated, Falen backed up, hands rising, and collided into Atton's chest. He placed his hands on her shoulders, sensing her shock and trying to comfort her.

"It's ok, Drax." He murmured in her ear.

Still slightly confused Falen leaned against his chest seeking the warmth and sanctuary it offered, shaking yet a bit more composed. Atton's hands tightened protectively on her trembling shoulders as one of the TSF officers snarled at them.

"Come on lieutenant! They've already killed… Who is that?"

"Is that Batu Rem?" Asked the female officer, who had until now taken in the scene before her silently.

"He said he was an assassin." Falen offered weakly.

"Rem's no assassin." The female officer countered bewilderedly, eyeing Falen as if she had just broken out into some kind of song and dance.

"Batu Rem is on leave – he shouldn't even be on the station. This man isn't him." Grenn concluded sharply.

Falen's former haziness had now worn off and anger reappeared in its place. "Well I'm glad someone noticed that only after he tried to _kill_ me!" she all but shouted, her voice growing shrill with underlying hysteria.

Grenn placidly ignored her hysterical outburst, "We've arranged for an apartment in Residential Module 082. You'll stay there under house arrest until our investigation of the Peragus matter is complete. You'll be under TSF protection. I'll personally clear any visitors to your quarters, and we'll investigate this incident to the best of our ability."

Atton snorted derogatively at his words, 'The best of their ability'? Well they'd all seen how good their abilities were…

"Let's go" Falen muttered, all her energy spent and her head aching like a fiend. This offer of an apartment sounded promising, apartments usually had beds, and she would have killed for a bed right now.

"Officer, get Lieutenant Yima a report of this incident. She'll look into this." Grenn barked to the male officer behind him. "The rest of you, come with me. We'll escort you to the apartment in 082 immediately."

* * *

**Citadel Station: Residential Module 082**

Falen inspected their new apartments with a joyful eye. There were beds! The room was furnished Spartan style, the bare essentials –three beds, a desk, a wall terminal and a refresher- to her it was heaven.

Lieutenant Green fought hard not to grin at the childlike glee that had blazed to life in her entrancing eyes at the sight of the beds. "These will serve as your quarters for the duration of your house arrest. Two officers will be stationed outside at all times. Again, I'll clear any visitors. There won't be another 'incident'."

"But just to be on the safe side, why don't you leave us a blaster or two?" Atton proposed, grinning.

Green just shot the scoundrel a look, shaking his head. The old man turned to the Jedi, who was obviously the leader of this unusual trio. Falen cocked her head inquisitively.

"How long will we be here?"

"I can't say." Grenn shrugged, "We have a ship examining what's left of the Peragus facility now, so your stay might be brief. We'll keep you informed."

"Well, this is a step up from a force cage at least." Atton drawled sarcastically.

As per usual, Grenn ignored the scoundrel and returned his attention back to Falen who was watching Atton with a half-amused, half-disgusted smile on her face.

"If there are any problems we will use the wall terminal to contact you." He turned to his fellow officers, "Let's go."

The officers left the apartment, closing and locking the durasteel doors behind them. Instantly Falen threw herself onto one of the beds, relaxing and sighing like a woman under the hands of a particularly skilled lover. Only Atton's worry caused him to tear his eyes away from her.

"This isn't good. We've got to get off this station." He said anxiously.

"Why do we need to leave?" Falen whined from her reclined position, "They have beds, _real_ beds!"

Atton stared at her exasperatedly, running his fingers through his hair in his frustration, was he going to have to explain everything to her?

"What do you think the TSF is going to find at Peragus? That could bring the S- You know what, forget it. As long as we're trapped here, it doesn't matter."

Falen leaned up on her bed, propping herself up on her elbows. She watched Atton curiously, the emotion in his voice had intrigued her and he didn't seem like the kind of man who'd simply drop a subject- especially when it concerned his own safety.

"What do you think, Kreia?"

"We cannot stay in any one place too long." The crone said sagaciously, "But our path has brought us here for a reason. I must meditate on this. In the meantime, we should rest."

Kreia settled into her meditation pose before the room's large window, her head dipping as she fell into her meditative state. Falen yawned and nodded, stretching languidly. Atton took the bed next to her, toeing off his boots and removing his jacket, gloves and belt before sighing tiredly.

"Yeah, you go ahead and meditate. As for me, I'm having a shower then sleeping for a few weeks."

Falen nodded from her pillow, "You and me both."

One dark eyebrow rose, a smile clinging to the corner of his full lips, "You planning on joining me Drax? Can't say I'd complain. I like the thought of you and me, a bed and a few weeks to spare."

"Hate to break it to you Rand," She retorted, "But I'd rather spend my time with a Rancour."

Atton brought a hand to his breast, mock hurt on his attractive face. "Ouch Drax, you've hurt my feelings"

"Atton, as much as I love hurting your feelings, I'm going to pass out soon if you don't let me get some sleep."

"Irritable, good-looking and sharp-tongued… It's a wonder you're still single"

Her eyes were closed and her face had taken on the peaceful visage of sleep, but one hand rose from the bed, middle finger raised in a crude gesture. He laughed at her audacity and patted her gently on the head before walking off to the 'fresher.

Falen waited until she heard the water start in the 'fresher before she sat up. She untied her hair, combing the black locks with her fingers. The jet-black cloud pooled past her shoulders and she felt the pain in her head slightly relieved with the release of her hair. Slowly she undressed, removing her loaned clothing and folding it neatly, sitting the folded clothes on the floor beside her bed. This time she had managed to relieve herself of that horrid Republic jumpsuit and was clad in _actual_ underwear, courtesy of the female TSF officers.

"Thanks ladies" She murmured as she slipped under the covers, every muscle in her body going slack as she instantly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Hours Later…**

A shrill ringing brought Falen hazily out of her slumber. She rolled over and groaned, frustrated. She noticed Atton in the bed next to her, his body illuminated in light from the room's single window. The sheets pushed down to the waist, exposing a wonderfully sculptured –if scarred- expanse of male chest. Falen grinned and lay there, taking in the scene for a moment. One arm was thrown haphazardly above his head, while the other hung limply over the edge of his bed. His features were thrown into shadow; she could only see half of his attractive face.

He snorted and mumbled in his sleep, rolling over and pulling the pillow over his head, trying to block out the piercing ringing of the wall terminal. Giving his equally gorgeous back one last appreciative glance Falen slipped out of bed silently, groping around in the dark for her shirt. She finally clasped onto a bundle of material and pulled it over her head.

She fumbled her way across the room in the dark, relying on a hazy metal map to find her way to the ringing wall terminal. She found the damned thing only after she'd jarred her hip against its side. Cursing, Falen activated the terminal, momentarily blinded by the blue light yet pleased to finally be rid of the annoying ringing.

--_CALLER ID: Soka Linu… TSF Officer--_

Falen accepted the call and smiled as the apologetic face of the TSF officer appeared on the view screen.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but you have a visitor, Moza, a representative of the Ithorian herd on Telos. Lieutenant Grenn has cleared him. Would you like me to send him in?"

Falen shook her head, "No, the others are sleeping in here. Could I talk to him out there?"

After a pause Soka returned to the screen, "Of course, I will open the doors for you, but you cannot leave our sight."

"Agreed" Falen nodded and turned off the terminal, walking towards the doors, or at least where she thought they were… She found them eventually and knocked twice, letting the two officers outside know that she was ready. The doors opened slightly, but still wide enough for her to squeeze through.

As she stepped into the light she realized with a jolt that she was wearing Atton's shirt. It hung down to her thighs, the shoulders were far too large and the sleeves hanging over her hands. Refusing to blush she simply pulled the voluminous shirt tighter around her form and greeted her guards with a soft smile. Both smiled back, and the one Falen recognised as Soka ushered her forwards to meet her visitor.

Falen had always had a soft spot for the peaceful and often bumbling Ithorians. Their presence was always calming and she enjoyed their company. She smiled to Moza as he approached with his strange loping stride, flat head swaying and bobbing. Serenely she listened to his words and answered his questions. Falen may not know many alien languages, but she knew Ithori, it was one Revan had taught her when she was younger. Agreeing to visit the Ithorian consulate and talk with their spiritual leader, one Chodo Habat, who had promised to 'heal' her… whatever that entailed…

She sweetly wished the kind Ithorian farewell and walked back to the guards, who smiled kindly at her and stepped aside, allowing her re-entry to the dark apartment. Inside was cool and quite, the darkness peaceful. It surprised Falen as she leaned against the closed door that she was content. She was incarcerated with a hunky smartarse and a caustic old woman, and yet she was happy. In fact, she'd never felt so _alive_ in nine years.

Falen was pleased with herself when she arrived to her bed without incident or injury. Out of the dark Kreia's voice emerged, and like some omniscient presence, it surrounded her.

"Now perhaps we shall be able to rest uninterrupted."

Nodding, Falen shed Atton's shirt and once again slipped under the covers, sighing as she relaxed and fell asleep.

* * *

**Hours Later…Again…**

For the second time that night the shrill ringing of the wall terminal brought Falen out of her much needed sleep. Groaning and cursing she rolled over to see Atton, his brown eyes black in the dim light, and his face mirroring her own.

"Answer it" He grumbled, reaching out to poke her.

"No" She snapped petulantly, kicking him in retaliation, "I answered it last time"

Sighing, but no longer complaining, he pulled himself out bed, one hand holding the sheets securely around his waist as he rose. He ran a hand through his scruffy hair, slowly making his way towards the terminal, Falen watching his progress with smiling eyes.

"If they're selling something, I swear I'm going to kill them" Atton remarked darkly.

He activated the terminal and the soft blue light washed over his body, illuminating the chiselled contours of his chest. Back in her bed Falen absorbed the sight hungrily, at the same time trying to fight the attraction tugging at her stomach.

--_CALLER ID: B-4D4…Czerka Corporation…Citadel Branch—_

"It's Czerka," He called over his shoulder to Falen, "Should I accept the call?"

"No" Her soothing voice answered from the dark, "We're working with the Ithorians, which makes Czerka the crooks."

He nodded and declined the call, not sure exactly what she was talking about. Atton shut off the terminal and the room was dark once more, and he staggered his way back to bed.

"We should get back to bed." He stated unnecessarily as he lay back down, "Whenever they decide to release us, we should get going immediately."

"No shit, Rand"

* * *

**Morning…**

Atton rolled out of bed and dressed quickly. From what he could tell Falen was in the shower. For a moment he considered 'accidentally' walking in on her, but quickly changed his mind, that would be suicide… he'd die a happy man.

Instead he turned his eyes to the old witch meditating in the corner. Questions burned in his mind and he wanted answers. Atton slipped on his boots and gloves, noticing his shirt smelled strange… it smelled like Falen.

Grinning, he locked that question away for when she had emerged from the shower, and turned his attention to the old woman.

"Explain something to me."

"I do not have the years required- nor the desire to indulge you." She replied dryly.

Atton ignored her tone and pushed on, he wanted his questions answered. "If she served in the war… well, Jedi are supposed to be tough. Capable."

Deciding to impart some wisdom upon the fool, Kreia rose from her meditation, her blind eyes seeing more than he could possibly imagine. "Yes… and what are they without the Force? Take the greatest Jedi Knight; strip away the force, and what remains? They rely on it; depend on it, more than they know. Watch as one tries to hold a blaster, as they try to hold a lightsabre, and you will see nothing more than a woman- or a man. A child."

Atton was shocked, wondering what it must have been like for Falen to lose so much. She was capable and yet so vulnerable in his eyes. "But to lose so much… I guess I didn't realise how much they depend on it."

"Do not be surprised. In many ways, even you are more capable than a Jedi." She admitted this with a sense of mockery in her voice, "You could survive where they could not simply because you do not hear the Force as they do. It is irony of a sort- and it is why I tolerate your presence now."

"Such a loss of ability- for a Jedi, it seems so extreme."

"She has been gone from war a long time. It is conflict that strengthens us… and isolation that weakens us… erodes us. Add to that that she turned away from war, did all that she could to forget it, and the last piece clicks into place. But we have spoken enough of this – and we do her a disservice by not speaking of this while she is present."

He nodded reluctantly to Kreia's words, hearing the running water in the 'fresher shut off. Pondering the older woman's words Atton dropped onto his bed, pulling a scuffed deck of pazzak cards out of his jacket. He shuffled the worn deck before dealing them out on the bed. He was half-way through a game when he realised Falen was watching him.

She was sitting on her bed, legs crossed and barefoot, and the legs of her trousers hanging over her feet. She smiled lazily as he looked at her, those full lips curving seductively at the corners and her creamy skin was luminous. Her eyes also smiled, the slanted orbs giving her a look of languorous ease. Atton had to fight the urge to lick his lips at the sexy picture she presented.

"Having fun?" She purred, flicking her wet hair over one shoulder.

He nodded, enjoying the change in her tone. Her entire presence seemed different, peaceful, compared to the chaos that had surrounded her on Peragus. He threw a card in her direction; it bounced off one of her knees before drifting idly to the floor.

"Come over here and I'll give you a game" He persuaded, patting a space on the bed beside him.

Falen slipped off her bed sinuously, holding out her hand, using the Force to pull the thrown card into her waiting grasp. She grinned proudly as the card flew smoothly through the air, landing softly in her hand.

"Ha!" She exclaimed triumphantly, throwing the card down into his lap, settling on the bed opposite him, once again crossing her long legs.

"That's quite a party trick you've got there" He replied, gathering and shuffling his scattered cards. She nodded absentmindedly, watching him intently as he shuffled the cards, her golden eyes laughing with some private joke.

"You know how to play, right?" Atton asked as he handed her a side deck.

Falen nodded, looking over her cards, "Oh, I've played here and there"

She won the first set, much to Atton's chagrin. He'd underestimated her luck, or she'd lied to him about her inexperience. Most likely the latter, he thought as they began the second set. Atton managed to win the second set, but only barely, and he was driven to win the final and deciding set.

With a defeated sigh Falen threw down her last card, she'd miscounted and come out over 21. Atton grinned broadly at his victory, gathering up the brightly coloured pazzak cards. He stopped and watched her for an instant, trying to figure out what was giving her that certain glow.

"You seem pretty calm – it's almost streaming off of you. A lot calmer that you were on Peragus when I first met you." He stated bluntly, watching for her reaction.

Slowly Falen nodded, his big chocolate eyes –both rich and bitter, and oh so tempting- were staring into her own. "I'm fine. In fact, I haven't felt this good in a long time."

"Well it's good to see. You're a nice counter balance to that old witch back there."

She laughed lightly, her cheeks flushing lightly at the accolade. Atton wanted to reach out and touch her, capture her smile and her blush under his fingers, feel her lips…

Falen felt uneasy under his intense gaze, his brown eyes growing darker with some emotion, the hungry look on his face stirring desire in her body. He looked as if he were about to gobble her up whole. Similar inclinations stirred in her mind. Falen's eyes fixed on his bottom lip… she wanted to sink her teeth into it…

She mentally and physically shook herself, appalled at her loss of control. These feelings… She'd felt desire during her exile, been in lust, seducing the odd spacer when the need overwhelmed her but she'd never felt this attracted to a man in such a sort space of time -it was unnatural- wasn't it?

Frustrated at her inability to answer the question Falen jumped off the bed, leaving a dejected Atton behind and walked to the single window. She pressed herself against the cold transparasteel, watching as it fogged with the heat her body created. Outside was space, as black and empty as her heart. Her longing for her friends, her lost family was overpowering, it was almost tangible.

Revan… surrogate sister, best friend, confidant and leader. The two of them had been inseparable, despite the age difference. Revan was older by six years, and yet had always treated Falen as an equal. Fresh from a Corasaunt orphanage Falen had been an extremely shy child and the Jedi Masters had seen how this could hinder her powers, so they had paired her with the confident and powerful Padawan Revan, hoping that the older girl would bring her out of her shell. They had been right of course, and Falen had excelled under the sisterly affection of Revan.

Malak had been there also, but he was… different. He had been her friend, ever loyal and courageous, the perfect guardian. That he had been, always there for both Revan and herself, ready to fight or protect. Malak had been so much to her, her first love… her first lover. Now he was dead, at Revan's hand's no less… strange how the Force made fools of them all…

Tears fell unbidden down her face, dripping from her chin, rolling down the transparasteel she was pressed against. She felt lost, out of her time, everything she had known had vanished… an outsider within this very galaxy she had fought so hard to protect.

"I miss you" She murmured to the glass, offering her words and her pain to whatever accepted them.

Kreia was by her side, a gnarled hand resting on Falen's shaking shoulder. Her voice was soft, but held no sympathy and Falen somehow found it a comfort.

"Come Exile, such morbid thoughts are blinding and can drag you down."

"Kreia," Falen pleaded, "leave me alone to my thoughts for a while, I need time"

"You do not have time!" Kreia snapped, "You are at war once again Exile, but this time you are alone, there are no friends to distract you. No love to blind or destroy you. Thinking and grieving for the dead can not bring them back, focus on what your survival against these new Sith demands!"

Falen nodded numbly, tears still wetting her cheeks. Steely resolve replaced the pain in her heart. Revan and Malak may have brought the Sith to the galaxy in her absence, but as a last gesture she would clean up their messes and in her own mind, absolve their failures.

"Let us meditate" Kreia murmured.

* * *

**Later That Day…**

Grenn arrived, tired and dishevelled, to tell them of their release. His stay had been brief, but they were free and their personal effects were waiting for them at the TSF Station.

"Well now what?" Atton ground out, pacing like a caged animal, "We can't just stick around. We need to find a way off this station, whether it's the Ebon Hawk or some other ship. We could hit Nar Shaddaa, maybe. If you've got people coming after you, it's the best place to go to get lost in the crowd."

Falen raised a slim eyebrow, "You know from personal experience?"

"Hey, everyone needs to get lost once in a while." His tone was evasive, "Get away from something, you know? It's no big deal."

_Liar_, Falen thought, wondering what was behind his evasiveness, her natural curiosity peaked. What was he hiding?

"Why do we have to leave?" She queried; her intense gaze still on Atton, who was starting to fidget.

"Look, this place is a waste." He offered, desperate to distract her, "If Telos wasn't doomed before Peragus blew, it is now- even if more so of your 'friends' from Peragus come calling."

"Why would Telos be doomed?"

"Because it depends on Citadel Station, and the Citadel depends on Peragian fuel and the Republic's senators. The Citadel's fuel source went up with the mining facility, and the bickering senators? _Heh_… not something worth counting on."

"What do you think, Kreia?" Falen looked to the old woman, who was still sitting motionless on the floor. Slowly the crone rose, fixing the hood of her robe and running her remaining hand down the identical streams of silver hair that fell over her shoulders.

"It is difficult to say. I feel we came to Telos for a reason, but we may have spent too much time here already. Even if the Harbinger was destroyed at Peragus, more Sith could already be on their way. Still, there is a chance we might learn of other Jedi here, on the planets surface. Jedi who might help us restore your abilities or sever the link between us."

Falen absorbed the woman's words, sensing a double meaning but unable to find it. Atton was becoming restless, he wanted out of this room.

"Well? What do you think?" Atton snapped.

"Stay or explore Telos, we need a ship." Falen shrugged, "Let's find the _Ebon Hawk_."

"Makes sense. I'll follow your lead."

* * *

**A/N: **O.o… Kinda long kinda pointless chapter. I think I jumped into the whole Atton and Exile attraction a little too quickly, meh… fun either way. FALEN AND MALAK! The shock horror surprise! What do ya think? More reviews people, I NEED them! 

Has anyone noticed that this story doesn't show up on the main postings page?

AND a cookie for the smart little reader who can tell me the irony behind calling the Republic cruiser the Harbinger? (You don't have to answer, I'm just in the teaching mood… )

This is the longest chapter I have ever written, so to commemorate the event… let us all make anime faces!

**P.S:** Year 12 has temporarily frazzled my brains, so please put up with with my craziness… thank you for your consideration…lol.


	5. A Brutal Exchange

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 4: A Brutal Exchange

* * *

**Telos: Entertainment Module 081, Cantina…**

Falen's hand hovered over the door mechanism. They were outside the local cantina, weapons hidden, trying to look as harmless as they could. Unfortunately, they looked far from harmless; in fact, the three of them were leaning towards the weird end of the scale. Kreia, well… the old woman could look creepy in her sleep. Now her aged face was unnaturally blank, schooled into an impassive façade. Atton, on the other hand, was practically bouncing from one foot to another, eager to get inside. His handsome face was plastered in his signature easy-going smirk, but Falen could sense the stiffness in his stance.

Before she opened the door, she turned to her companions, tawny eyes clouded as her mind planned and calculated, a thin line of thought appearing between her brows. "Ok, no violence or scenes. We're here to mix with the locals, get information and find a way into the Exchange offices."

She pointed at Atton, "No groping, annoying or fornicating with the dancing girls. Play pazzak, we could use the credits, but no shit. Got that, Rand?"

"Sure thing, Drax. Buy me a drink in there and I'll be happy to do whatever you want." He looked past her to the door, his eyes practically boring through the durasteel. His urgency couldn't have been more obvious if he'd smacked her around the head with it… and a lot less painful for all parties involved.

Falen quickly pressed the door's mechanism, and was instantly hit with a tangible wall of cigarra smoke, the smell of food and loud music. Immediately she sunk into a relaxed state, the lively ambience of the cantina calming her nerves. Around them were people, laughing, drinking and having a good time. Atton, catching the eyes of two scarlet Twi'lek women at a pazzak table moved forwards with a lazy stride. Falen let him go, finding Kreia and herself a table in the corner, overlooking the entire cantina.

Kreia sat gracefully in the offered chair, her hands folded serenely in her lap. Falen, with a lot less grace, flopped into a chair and rested her booted feet on another. Moments passed in silence, Falen scanning the crowd with an easy smile on her face, picking out potential informants and those who could possibly help her. She eavesdropped on a Republic and Onderonian soldier, who were engaged in a rather heated conversation, all the while ignoring the tension emanating from the woman beside her. Kreia had something to say, but Falen wasn't going to push, if the old lady had something to say then she would come out and say it eventually.

"I do not approve of this alliance you have formed with Chodo Habat and his Ithorians." Kreia finally stated, her voice monotonous, yet with a hint of underlying irritation.

_Finally…_Falen thought, slightly frowning before stating coldly, "I don't need your approval Kreia."

"Nonetheless, you should heed my advice. Habat has an agenda, and he hopes to tie you into it, to use you to his own ends." Kreia's voice had resumed its usual sagely resonance and Falen prepared for a long lecture on something.

"I don't sense he intends us any harm."

"Be that as it may, it would be best if you avoided such needless entanglements. You are too valuable to be caught up in the struggles of this planet."

_Too valuable?_ Falen snorted derisively. When had she become valuable? "Regardless, Chodo needs our help, and I will give it."

Kreia scowled at Falen's ardent tone, the lines of her face deepening. "I cannot force you to listen to reason, only hope that you will grow past these infantile delusions of right and wrong." With that, the crone was up and gone, marching from the cantina menacingly, the crowd giving her a wide berth as she left. Falen sighed; she was once again alone with her thoughts, a bad thing under the current circumstances. Every thought was of Malak, his eyes -a deep stormy grey-, his smile, his kisses, the feel of his skin upon her own, and his words of love murmured in her ear…

"Bastard!" she hissed, bastard for making her fall in love.

_I love you Falen_, he'd whispered, _with everything I have…_

Oh how she'd loved him, with everything she'd had. Every beat of her heart for him, every breath she'd drawn only for him. In hindsight she realised she'd loved him with more than she could afford to give, because in the end she'd been left with nothing for herself.

"Stupid girl" she reprimanded herself, stupid girl for falling in love and putting yourself through so much pain.

_I'll never leave you_, he'd confided, _I'll never let you fall_…

And he never had. It was all her fault. She was the one who had left, run away to the Jedi, scared and weak. He'd never let her fall. She'd left and he'd fallen, she hadn't been there for him. No, she'd been so absorbed in her own problems -in her own exile- to see that the man she loved needed her!

"Damnit!" she growled, thumping her clenched fist on the table before her.

Flooded with anger, pain and self-loathing Falen rested her head on the table, taking a few deep breaths to dispel the feeling and calm her thundering heart. _Memories_… Sometimes she loved them, would sit and reminisce, thinking of the good times. Other times she would have willingly taken a blaster to head if it meant they would go away and leave her in peace. Now was one of those times. She needed a distraction, something to occupy her mind. Atton's deep laughter rumbled under the flow of the music and Falen looked sharply over in his direction.

He seemed pretty comfortable with the two women, joking and laughing over a table of pazzak cards, a charmingly careless grin on his face. Falen watched them desolately, wishing she could laugh and smile like that, be as blissfully ignorant as them. Not know about Sith, about this coming war, about Malak…

She blew out a deep breath and stood up abandoning her table to the wills of the crowd, making her way towards Atton and his girls, unsure if it was truly the best course of action. Previously being locked in an apartment with the man, it had at first started off lightly, but had quickly escalated to what Falen could only describe as blatant lust. She didn't need, nor did she want that kind of trouble right now. Men were too much trouble altogether.

Atton grinned and gestured as she saw her approaching through the crowd, knowing he could use her pazzak skills against these two fiery Twi'lek teases. One of his female counterparts eyed Falen distastefully as she approached, her lekku flicking with agitation, this new woman could be a challenge. She turned to her sister and exchanged the slightest of nods, they both agreed- a challenge indeed. The crimson pair watched as the dark-haired woman approach, sadness clinging to the corners of her eyes.

"Who is this friend of yours?" One sister asked in honeyed tones, her long lashes batting innocently.

Atton smiled at the Twi'lek sister, yes _sister_! He still couldn't believe his luck at snagging sisters, and twins no less. "Who? Oh…Fal? She's just my sister" He added dismissively, impressed by his own quick thinking. His excuse was effective, and both the women relaxed slightly, no longer sensing this new comer a challenge.

Falen slowed as she saw the guarded look pass between the two women, wondering what was happening. Their look's soon relaxed though, as Atton placated them with some words. Cautiously Falen reached the table, standing beside Atton's chair. She smiled warmly at the sisters, inclining her head gracefully in greeting. They returned the gesture while Atton leaned back in his chair to smile lopsidedly up at her. Fortunately for him, neither of his ladies noticed the pleading look he shot Falen.

"Hiya, Sis'."

Falling into the façade, Falen pushed all thoughts of Malak aside and played along, cuffing Atton lightly on the head with what she hoped passed for sisterly affection. The Twi'lek sisters giggled at the show and patted the vacant chair at the table, inviting Falen to sit down.

"Come, sit down pretty sister, we would enjoy your company." One purred.

"Thanks for the offer, but I was thinking of getting a drink first. Would you ladies like one?" The twins nodded thoughtfully, and Falen kneed Atton gently in the side, earning a muffled '_oof!'_ and more giggles from the twins. "What about you, _little_ brother?"

Atton scowled up at her, not liking her emphasis on the word 'little'. "We'll have three Juma's thanks, Drax."

Falen snorted at this, _Juma? _She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, barely managing to control her laughter.

Missing the mirth in her eyes one Twi'lek looked puzzled, "Drax?"

"Unfortunate nickname" Falen shrugged before walking off towards the bar. Atton quickly excused himself from the table and rushed after her, an unhappy look on his face. Falen had just reached the bar as Atton reached her, his hand clamping on her elbow. As soon as she saw the look on his face, she bit her lip, snorting and giggling with hilarity.

"What?" He scowled, "What's so funny?"

"_Juma_?" She managed through giggles, "Are you kidding me? And here I was thinking you were a real cantina rat. Juma! What a lightweight!"

He glowered further at her words, and Falen all but collapsed with hysterics. She wheezed and coughed between her laughter, tears in her eyes. Noticing she was attracting some attention, Falen slowly subsided, wiping the tears from her eyes and returning her breathing to normal, although there were red marks in her lip where she had bit herself. The patrons of the bar were watching her with avid interest, wondering at the reason behind her amusement. Her face was sombre in a second, even though her lips curved at the corners.

"Juma it is then."

"Ok, Drax. You've had your fun. Let's get these drinks."

"Sure thing. Now you're sure you want a Juma? Why not go with a non-alcoholic one just to be on the safe side?"

Atton growled at the insult and she subsided, still grinning conspiratorially, and turned to the waiting Rodian barman. The alien quickly prepared their order, three glasses of Juma juice and a Correlian brandy. Atton threw a few credits in the barman's direction and viewed her beverage with a raised eyebrow, lips pursed in displeasure- one Correlian brandy was sure to knock the teetotaller Jedi flat on her arse.

"You plan on getting blind before the nights out?"

"Although that would be a nice- I'm afraid not. Kreia would surely kill me, I need to keep on my toes to keep _you_ out of trouble and no single ale's gonna get me anywhere other than relaxed."

Falen gathered up the four drinks, carrying them all easily. Being the gentleman he wasn't, Atton watched her threaten to drop his drink with a raised brow before he finally took two glasses from her. He surreptitiously looked around the cantina, noticing a dark-skinned man with two Rodian bodyguards was watching their progress from a secluded corner, or more so, watching Falen's progress.

"You know…" Falen began conversationally, seemingly unaware of her observer, "I almost feel sorry for those two."

"Who? The twins?" He asked, brows knotting in perplexity. "Why's that?"

"Well, first off, their taste in men." She stuck out her tongue to demonstrate her distaste.

"Oh, very cute, Drax. Any cuter and you could pass for a rare Gamorrean beauty." He muttered, chuckling in spite of himself. Atton continued, keeping his face blank and his voice low, "You know that guy over there is watching you."

"I know. He and the purple woman have been watching both of us for the better part of ten minutes."

Atton looked around madly for this 'purple woman', finding her not far from the dark man, a self-assured set to her shoulders and surrounded by two tonnes of Gamorrean bodyguard. No wonder she looked confident. "Wow" He added aloud and giving a low whistle, "purple woman has a nice rack."

Falen grimaced. "Behave. Remember, we have a job to do. I'll sweeten those two up and see if they can give us any information on the Exchange."

Atton made a guttural growl of displeasure but kept quiet. He didn't like messing with the Exchange; it was like poking a disgruntled Leigrek with a very shot stick. Falen on the other hand was looking forward to it, finding out where the _Ebon Hawk_ had gone and sorting out this bounty that hovered over her head like some thundercloud. She handed Atton the remaining Juma juice she carried, disappearing into the crowd, her Correlian brandy in hand. As she mingled she sipped her drink, feeling the alcohol slip silkily down her throat and slowly blossom in her mind like some metaphorical flower. The gentle, consuming warmth of the spirit comforted her and she set out on her task, trying to look inconspicuous- something she'd become very good at over the last nine years. She watched the dancers, recognising one as the Twi'lek sold by her boyfriend, and Falen promised herself that she would release the poor woman… as soon as she had gathered enough credits to buy out her owner. Falen could feel three pairs of eyes following her around the cantina at all times, one was Atton's, the other two were her observers. Eventually, she was listening to the band when she felt someone step up beside her, standing too close for coincidence.

The dark-skinned man smiled down at her, his white teeth sparkling against his dusky skin. His eyes were almost black in the dim halogen glow of the dance floor, while her own were turned a deep green under the pulsing blue lights. He was surrounded by an almost suffocating air of self-importance and Falen almost gagged at the alcohol fumes that emanated from him. She held his gaze unerringly, with a look of unamused disinterest in her eyes, hoping to discourage or at least intimidate him. Unfortunately, he was too far gone to notice, being at the stage of an alcohol-induced stupor when no meant yes and disgusted female glances were practically invitations.

"Ah, so you're the Jedi everyone's been whispering about. No more trouble with the TSF, I hope?" He smiled lopsidedly; his finger's playing idly with her braids. Falen jerked her head away quickly, distaste etched on her face.

"You should keep out of matters that don't concern you." She replied casually, knowing that drunks like this can get riled up on virtually anything and angry tones didn't help the situation at all.

"Perhaps you don't know who I am." He looked affronted, like the kind of man who didn't her 'no' from a woman very often.

"Someone with an inflated view of himself?" She snapped tartly.

"You haven't been on Citadel Station long, have you? Let me introduce myself. I'm Benok, the man in charge of Loppak Slusk's protection." Falen's eyes sparked with interest, finally he was getting somewhere. "You do know who Loppak Slusk is, don't you?" He motioned behind him with a careless wave of his had, to the two Rodians waiting patiently. "The two gentlemen with me are Matu and Nahata, Slusk's finest men. Other than me of course."

"Oh leave the woman alone, Benok. I bet she'd come out on top if you fought." The purple woman joined the conversation, safe behind the bulk of her bodyguards. Falen turned expectantly to this 'Benok', waiting for his retort.

"Now Luxa, I meant no disrespect. You're probably Slusk's strongest woman." Benok's words were complementary, with a sting of condescendence- as if he were reassuring a small child.

Despite his antagonistic attitude Luxa shrugged dismissively, "It's your skin Benok. Just warning you- Slusk could easily replace you."

"She's right." Falen added, grinning into her brandy. "Mess with me and you're dead."

Outmatched on both sides Benok was wise enough to back down. "Well, we were just leaving anyway." He turned tail and walked away, calling his Rodians to him with a muttered, "Come on."

"Coward" Falen sighed.

Now beside her Luxa nodded, "A wise coward. You know, I heard about what happened at the docks. Can we talk for a bit?"

Sensing no intended harm from this woman and now knowing of her Exchange connections, Falen sensed a partnership could be forged that would be beneficial for both parties. "Yes, go on."

"I handle vice- you know, spice gambling, the good things in life- for the local Exchange boss, Loppak Slusk." Falen nodded casually, trying not to look too eager. Luxa tucked some of her cropped red hair behind her ear and continued. "That squid and don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, you being one of them."

Falen's eyebrows shot up, the Exchange was discussing her? Well of course they were, she mentally reprimanded herself, she did have a rather hefty bounty on her head. "What does this have to do with me?" She queried warily.

"Look," Luxa stated bluntly, getting tired of this pointless banter. "Are you really Jedi?"

"No" Falen answered flatly, no emotion in her face.

"Exactly." Luxa grinned, the woman was playing right into her hands… or so she thought. "This Exchange bounty has nothing to do with you- but Slusk, my boss, won't listen to me." Her voice changed from mildly irritated to aroused in a second, throwing Falen off balance. "Still, you seem a very capable sort. Tell me, are you a capable sort?"

Falen tried not to take a big step backwards, "I'm capable, yes"

"Good, I like that in a woman." Luxa winked at Falen and returned to business. "So here it is- help me with Loppak Slusk, and I'll keep the Exchange off your back- and find your missing ship."

Heartened at the prospect of finding The _Ebon Hawk_ and possibly lifting the bounty, Falen quickly accepted Luxa's offer. "What's your problem with Slusk?"

The two bent closer as they discussed the delicate details of their mutual partnership, Luxa giving Falen sufficient information to get her into the Exchange offices unnoticed. They agreed upon a time for their attack and Luxa took her leave, bringing Falen's knuckles to her lips, murmuring, "We'll speak again, then. Best of luck, beautiful."

The Exile smiled sweetly and nodded, resisting the urge to grimace and wash her knuckles repeatedly. Once Luxa disappeared from sight she cleaned her knuckled on her clothes, hastily drinking the remaining dregs of her ale, hoping to find succour in the warming amber liquid. Relaxed, and feeling easier with a defined purpose Falen looked around the cantina for Atton, she only had four hours to prepare before her assault of the Exchange was set to begin. To her surprise he was making his way through the crowds towards her, winding with a serpentine grace that seemed out of place with his size. Tall, broad shouldered and narrow waisted, Atton was the kind of man who possessed a loping grace that suited his long-legged frame. He grinned down at her, his smile endearing and sleazy at the same time.

"Saw you getting pretty friendly with the purple lady with the nice rack. How'd you go on the information front?"

Falen beamed with pride, "Her name's Luxa and I've got four hours before I sneak into the Exchange officers, and 'negotiate' with Loppak Slusk."

"Haven't you been busy then? You do know that 'Luxa' will screw you over the first chance she gets. She's Exchange scum, it's in her nature."

She chuckled, "Oh well, I'll just have to work her 'screwing' to our advantage."

Falen placed her empty glass on the tray of a passing serving droid and made her way off the dance floor, Atton dutifully in tow, and all the while deep in thought. She welcomed Atton's help, he was handy with a blaster, but just his presence set her on edge. So far she'd made a long list of reasons why she should make him leave, as well as a few insults in case they would be needed. She had enough on her plate with Sith and a cranky, prophetic old woman, the last thing she need was a self-proclaimed ladies man staring at her arse all day… which is exactly what he was doing at the moment.

Sighing, she thrust a violent hand into her fringe, wiping the black strands away from her eyes. Free of the crowd Falen made good speed towards the door, struck by a sudden and overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. Nine years she had been without ties, floating almost bodiless through space under various aliases, and now she had a war to fight, a master and the Force. She wanted a few moments of peace in which to clear her head. Unfortunately, she had no such luck. Only footsteps away from the door Atton's hand clasped onto her shoulder with and iron grip, spinning her on her heels to face him. Surprised, angered and extremely unwilling, Falen captured his wrist in a vice-like grip, her nails bitting through the leather of his gloves and into his flesh.

"You don't ever touch me. If I'm about to step in front of a damn rampaging Zakkeg, you don't so much as reach out to pull me back. We clear?"

Her eyes were bright with anger –almost predatory. Her nails bit deeper into his flesh as she waited for an answer, eyes narrowing menacingly as he stared blankly at her. Finally he ripped his wrist out of her grasp, still holding her eyes steadily with his own.

"Crystal" He snarled, barely contained anger in his voice.

Still fuelled by her rage Falen dug into her pockets and pulled out a handful of credits chips, throwing them at him. The credit chips bounced of his stunned face, if she weren't so angry she would have found the sight hilarious.

"There's your share of the spoils" She stated indifferently, feeling disembodied. "Go find some Twi'lek joy girl to ogle."

Burned by the harsh remark Atton shook his head defiantly, a cocky smile gracing his lips, "Oh no way, sister. Just for that remark I think I'll stick around for a while."

"Why Atton?" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in a mixture of anger and exasperation, "You got of Peragus, you're a free man. I don't need your help, I can handle myself… I've been doing it for nine years."

"Look Drax," He replied cautiously, stoping to think and picking his words carefully. "If there's one thing I know about you, it's that you're able to handle yourself. But I don't trust the old witch. Force! I wouldn't even wish her on Darth Revan. I can't get off this hole of a planet without your help; we're in the same boat honey. I need you, you need me."

Falen snorted disbelievingly and he continued, trying to lighten the mood. "And maybe I wanna get in on your little adventure…"

She laughed quietly and shook her head, "This is far from an adventure, but… I guess I could use your help."

"Good" He grinned, "Now was that so painful to admit?"

She released her breath in a sigh of defeat, her anger dissipating rapidly. No longer blinded by her anger and inner turmoil Falen noticed something, "What happened to the twins?"

"Oh them…" He shrugged lamely, scratching the back of his neck nonchalantly. "They ran out of credits."

Falen raised a slim eyebrow inquisitively, but Atton ignored the gesture and stooped to pick up the credits she had thrown at him. He bundled the credits into the palm of his gloved hand, offering them to her, not daring to reach out and place them into her hand. Smiling at his effort not to touch her Falen extended her hand and delicately plucked the credits from his palm, accepting the gesture for what it was- an offer of friendship.

Atton chuckled and motioned to the doors, opening them for her. "Come on then, Drax. We'd better get back before the witch dismembers me for leading you astray."

* * *

**Citadel Station: Residential Module 082…**

"That was smart, Drax… _real_ smart."

"One more word, Rand." Falen hissed and grit her teeth as another wave of pain washed over her. "And you'll be missing vital parts of your anatomy…"

"The fool _is_ correct Exile; it was thoughtless of you to barge into the Quarren's presence without first sensing the room within."

Disbelieving, Falen's eyes darted back and forth between her companions, her mouth hanging open. "How was I supposed to know the fraking squid had a _turbolaser _hidden under his desk!"

Her hands moved animatedly as she talked and she forgot herself in her tirade, leaning heavily on her injured leg and nearly falling arse over ion engine. Atton instantly moved to her aid as a thin wail of pain escaped her lips, catching her as she teetered dangerously to one side. He coiled an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, seemingly immune to her deadly glare. She uselessly fought against his embrace, her nails biting into the flesh of his forearm, maliciously pulling the hairs from his arms in a further escape attempt.

"Atton let me go! I can walk by myself!" she cried, passing Telosian's watching the scene with avid interest.

"Honey, you have a piece of durasteel the length of my forearm imbedded in your leg. I'm afraid you're not going to be walking anywhere."

"Well whose fault is that! You're the one who shot at the turbolaser while I was standing next to it."

"I was trying to protect you!"

"Stop being so childish! Both of you." Kreia barked, the squabbling pair instantly falling silent- Atton scowling at Kreia, while Falen tried as hard as she could to burn a hole through the side of Atton's head with her gaze alone. The crone clasped her stump in her remaining hand and pressed her furrowed lips into a thin line, displeasure emanating from under her hood.

"We must heal you Exile. I admit I am drained of my power from the previous battles and I doubt the fool has any skill in healing."

Falen nodded thoughtfully and gingery ran a finger down the length of the cut in the material of her combat suit. The reinforced blue cloth was stained a ruddy brown around the edges, bright red muscle flesh visible if anyone was so inclined to pull the material further apart. The imbedded shard of durasteel was barely evident, the bulk of the shrapnel buried deep within the _Vastus lateralis_ muscle of her thigh. A liberal amount of the Force applied to the wound to staunch the bleeding.

"Get me to the Medical centre; I've stitched up worse than this in my time…"

And she had. During her time as a Jedi Knight she had studied the medical arts, her skills proving invaluable during the ensuing Mandalorian Wars. She had sown soldiers limbs back onto their bodies, reattached lost digits and closed rents in flesh that paled her current wound into insignificance. She herself had suffered far worse than this current injury… far, far worse.

Atton nodded at her words and moved to heft her into his arms. Falen took an extreme step away from him, turning various shades of grey and green. There was a sickly scraping noise as the shard of metal rasped against her femur. She gave a strangled cry and collapsed against Atton's chest, his arms automatically warping around her.

"You seem to be making a habit of collapsing against me, Drax." He teased, trying to distract her from the pain, "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

His words fell on deaf ears. Falen's head was buried in the surprisingly soft fabric of his outer shirt, and her eyes clenched shut as she concentrated on her breathing and pain alleviation techniques. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, trying to match the beat of her heart to the steady rhythm of Atton's that pounded against her ear.

"Pick her up, fool." Kreia commanded.

"The 'fool' will do want he wants." Atton retorted. He looked down at the woman in his arms, her hands fisted in the material of his shirt as she dealt with the pain. He felt guilty knowing he'd inadvertently caused her pain, but if he hadn't shot at the turbolaser they would all probably be plasma scorches on the floor of the Quarren's office. _Why couldn't the witch have been standing next to the turbolaser?_ He shifted Falen in his arms, leaning down to hook one arm around her knees.

"You ready, Drax?"

"I hate you, Rand." She ground out through clenched teeth.

He chuckled and in one swift motion swept her up off her feet. Falen bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from screaming as the metal once again scraped against her femur with a wet grating sound. Blood welled from her bottom lip; such was the intensity of her bite. Her face was ashen, crimson blood staining her pallid lips. Waves of pain had her head spinning and she groaned softly, her head slumped against Atton's shoulder. Now off her feet more of the bloodied shrapnel protruded further from the wound and the surrounding Telosian's gasped in horror, Atton felt his own stomach turn at the grisly sight. One of the women in the crowd began to mutter about the 'bastard' Czerka mercenaries and neither Atton nor Falen were disposed to correct her.

"C'mon, Falen… talk to me, honey." Atton murmured to Falen as he followed Kreia to the med bay, trying to keep her conscious and lucid.

"_Geez_ Rand, stop acting like I'm dying. I'll be fine." She mumbled, now looking a lot calmer than she had previously. The fact that she was in Atton's arms once again had her wide awake with shame and awkwardness. She pressed her lips into a thin line and concentrated on an old Jedi meditation technique that she had been taught as a child, the gentle swaying of his body as he moved aiding her slip into another consciousness. She closed her eyes and turning her senses inward, hearing the beat of her heart, the rush of her blood, every sound of her internal activities was there and she could pinpoint each one. Her conscious travelled lazily through her veins until she came to the site of her wound. The shrapnel was alien in her body, disrupting the harmonious melody of her inner workings. She examined it, a long thin shaft of metal, shaped like an elongated triangle with it's nose buried very deep in her thigh… she was going to need internal sutures.

"Exile? _Awaken_. We have arrived at the medical centre."

Falen opened her eyes sluggishly, reluctant to leave the peace of her own body. She was sitting on a bed in the Medical centre, Kreia and Atton watching her, the Onderon diplomat behind them looking nervous. Atton moved away rummaging through nearby containers for medical supplies, the diplomat taking his place at Falen's side.

"I have advanced medical training ma'am, should you need my services?"

Falen smiled up at the concerned bald man blearily and shook her head, "No thank you, I have medical training myself."

Atton returned moments later with handfuls of equipment- kolto patches, a scalpel, forceps, needle and thread. He sat the tools on a small tray and placed it next to her. The diplomat looked on wide-eyed.

"You're going to operate without an anaesthetic!"

Falen shrugged and laid her injured leg out on the bed, twisting on an odd angle to reach the wound. She grabbed the scalpel, and motioned for Atton to hold her leg still. He obliged, and Falen used the scalpel to cut the material away from the wound. The diplomat hissed as he saw the extent of the wound, her leg distorted with the shrapnel under the skin, the flesh a mottled red. Gritting her teeth Falen used the scalpel to open the wound further, making the eventual removal of the shrapnel easier. Wiping the welling blood away with her sleeve she discarded the scalpel for the forceps, getting a good grip on the shrapnel before yanking it from her leg. She grunted and paled as she pulled, but never uttered a word, reopening the bites on her lower lip. The metal came away with a wet, sucking sound, strings of congealed blood clinging to the shard.

Atton gave a chocked cry, his eyes wide and his face pallid. He'd seen many gruesome things in his time, some buy his own hand, but seeing this woman pull that shard of metal from her own leg without any form of anaesthetic irked him beyond reason. Panting and pallid, Falen placed the shrapnel to one side, picking up the sutures and dissolvable thread. She tried to thread the needle but her hands shook so badly it was impossible, instead the diplomat stepped forward and with a stern glance, took the needle and thread and proceeded to stitch the torn muscle back together. Falen heaved a relieved sigh and laid her head on her shoulder, wiping away the beads of cold sweat rolling down her forehead with her already bloodied sleeve, seemingly unaware of the bite of the needle sewing her flesh. Atton gave her a weak smile and she returned it, feeling a lot calmer as Kreia's knobbly hand rested gently at the small of her back, the crone using the Force to ease away the aching there.

"_You have done well Exile; I have rarely seen such a display of resilience. Few Jedi can handle such pain without calling upon the Force; your exile has set you apart."_ The older woman murmured in her mind, it was no longer safe to mention the words 'Jedi' or 'Force' around just anyone these days.

Falen accepted the accolade with a curt nod, too distracted by the feel of the Onderonian diplomat smoothing the light blue kolto gel into her wound. The gel was cool and thick, applied in a soft lather over her ravaged tissues and as welcome as a cold draught on Tatooine. For moments she lost herself in the simple, mindless bliss the healing gel provided. Silence ruled, the diplomat quietly intent on his work, Kreia watching all in the room with her unnatural apartness and Atton now standing at the end of the bed watching the diplomat's ministrations nonchalantly.

"Atton?" Falen called tersely, in no mood to put up with Atton's sullen hovering. "Could you please go and inform the Ithorians that we've… completed their task?"

He cast a speculative glance between Kreia and the diplomat before nodding reluctantly and leaving the Medical centre. With the 'fool' gone Kreia dismissed the diplomat with a few harsh words. The diplomat looked scandalised at the thought of having to leaving his patient with a gaping leg wound that required stitches, but he was no hero and had no wish to cross the formidable old woman. Kreia watched the diminutive man leave the room with the air of a bird of prey, watching her respective meal with arrogant indifference. Falen chuckled as an image of Kreia sprang to mind, perched on some branch, a beak sprouting out from under her hood. Kreia silenced her chuckling student with a wave of lashing rebuke sent through their bond.

"We have much to discuss Exile, and your attention span is sadly lacking."

"Well then," Falen replied tartly, put out by Kreia's derision. "I shall _strive_ to live up to your expectations."

Oddly, Kreia stilled. Fixing the Exile with her tangible gaze, "I'm sure you will…" Falen felt the hairs on her arms rise at the prophetic timbre in the older woman's voice.

"But first…" Kreia muttered, sitting gracefully at the end of Falen's bed and placing a soothing hand on her abused limb. The Exile moaned in ecstasy as Kreia once again channelled the Force into her injured flesh, her leg buzzing with the amount of power surging through it. The hag dug her fingers into the open wound, Falen crying out in pain as well as shock. As they probed, Kreia's fingers manipulated and seduced the living tissue to bind itself back together. She murmured as she worked, her hand now slick with kolto and blood. Soon the wound was gone, no scar remaining; only a smudge of blood and kolto marred the creamy skin.

Her task complete, Kreia sat back with a satisfied smile on her face. Falen on the other hand was still feeling rather nauseous from the sudden and shocking invasion of her flesh. It had unsettled her greatly to feel Kreia's fingers within her wound, a feeling that brought unwanted memories to mind.

"Now, we must talk." Kreia said, completely ignorant or ignoring Falen's discomfort- most likely the latter. "You must do something about this 'Atton'. He is not to be trusted, a liability. The fool is an accessory, to be used and discarded once he has fulfilled his purpose. I believe his extended presence may stunt your potential, Exile, and that is something we cannot risk."

Falen nodded evasively, still unsure of her own opinion regarding the scoundrel. He most definitely a distraction –a tempting distraction- but still the kind that was too dangerous to be risked. Kreia was right, she tried to convince herself, he was an accessory. A really strange, intriguing, sexy accessory. She really loved accessories.

_Not_ a productive train of thought.

"He's with us until we get off-planet, Kreia. We need him to fly the _Hawk_… once we find it. After that we'll sort something out." Falen concluded lamely, unsure as to whether the older woman's displeasure was caused by her earlier thoughts or her evasive answer. Kreia extended her hand towards the reclined Exile, helping her to her feet. Falen wobbled slightly, her previously injured leg still a little weak and unstable. Kreia watched her student struggle with a smile tugging at the corner of her thin lips.

"The weakness is all in your head Exile, your leg is fine."

Falen shot her master a dark look before stepping forward strongly, amazed to find that her leg was completely fine. She'd been away from the Force too long and its benefits had irked her since she regained her sensitivity. She was thrifty in using her newfound powers and senses. She had learnt in her exile to read the mind of men and women alike, it was not a hard task, as long as you knew what to look for. Many Jedi lessons she had learnt as a child remained, deep-rooted within her mind, while others were returning daily. Some discarded, some she kept. Falen was determined not to be the naïve Jedi she once was.

Kreia watched a various array of emotions flit across Falen's face, hearing the woman's thoughts as they ran through her head. She smiled, things were going to plan. Her student could not grow without change, not triumph without the realisation that the Jedi were useless- dead guardians of a dead age, grown fat and arrogant in the times of peace. She could see it happening, the Jedi lies were falling from Falen's eyes, the young woman was seeing them for what they truly were.

"Let us hurry from this place, Exile. I am anxious to be rid of this empty place and free of the imbecile."

Falen nodded, also anxious to be free of the strangely haunting emptiness that permeated Citadel Station. Through the Force every planet had its on feel, but this place was empty, there was nothing but the despair and pain of its inhabitants and their memories. It was unsettling, to feel nothing as you walked through the plain corridors of the Station with space on the other side of five inches of transparasteel and feel no emotions, no life force… only despair.

"We should go and see the Ithorian's, I have a feeling they still have another task for us."

"A task for _you_, Exile. They are _your_ allies. I am merely here to watch and teach you."

* * *

**A/N: **Okie dokies. _Finally_ finished this chapter, it was a real pain to write for some reason. I apologise for the lateness of this update, I've been so busy. Went down to Perth for school camp last week, we went surfing and paintballing. IT HURT! I still have bruises the size of tennis balls. Lol, anyway, on the subject of the Atton X Falen romance, there is no romance as of yet, moreover a dynamic attraction. Neither is too eager to get entangled in any type of romantic situation, which will be all the more fun to mess with. I didn't think anyone would like to read a simlpe drag through the Exchange offices soI cut that part out, hope ya don't mind!

Atashi: I fell in love with the name Falen when I first met a girl with the name. Afterwards I found out that the name was Celtic and meant 'grandchild of the ruler'.

Review pleeze! My next update should come pretty soon so keep your eyes peeled. Thankz to everyone who's reviewed so far, I can't believe it's only three chapters and already its got 14 reviews!


	6. Fever Dreams

**Wanderers Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 5: Fever Dreams

* * *

**Telos: Citadel Station, Residential Module 082…**

_Too much blood._

_Too much pain.  
_

"_I'll save you Fal… I promise."_

"_No."_

_Revan._

Falen awoke with a start, her body slicked with fear. She rolled onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest and sobbed uncontrollably. Fear, as raw and rampant as the day she had first felt it, ran through her body reducing her to a quivering heap in her blankets. Ever since that Ithorian had laid his hands on her she had been plagued with memories. All the ones she had tried so hard to forget. Voices, pain, visions, every one haunting her each time she closed her eyes.

Strong hands were on her, shaking gently. Falen fought them, kicking and sobbing, still gripped in fear. Her heart thundered in her ears, blocking out all sounds, even the surprised cries of her would-be assailant. Falen leapt off the bed, her hair a dark halo of mused locks, her eyes wide and unhinged. She struck out at the surrounding dark, the light from the window casting shadows that disorientated her further. Arms wrapped around her in the dark, pinning her arms to her sides. Falen cried; a strange strangled sound caught between a whimper and a growl.

She dug her nails into the assailant's thighs, hearing them grunt in pain. Urged on by the small concessions of weakness in her opponent Falen struggled harder against the arms -strong as they were- that bound her. She dug her heels into shins, throwing her head back and feeling wildly triumphant as it collided with flesh. She fought against the monster in her mind, not the one holding her. Limbs flailed, thrashing against her captor, but they only grunted and remained steadfast.

"_Exile!" _Barked a commanding voice from the blackness.

The voice cut through her madness like a sabre through flesh, leaving her hanging in her captor's arms. Tendrils of the Force wrapped around her legs, catching her from the waist down in a powerful stasis. She was panting heavily, head hung in pitiful defeat. Tears streamed silently down her face, she hadn't been able to save herself… for the second time she had failed to save herself from the hands of a monster…

"_Exile." _Again the commanding voice sounded, so wrapped in the Force Falen was compelled to look. Kreia glided from the darkness, a wave of her remaining hand freeing Falen from her stasis and from the arms that bound her. With nothing to hold her upright she fell to her knees, pressing her forehead against the freezing metal flooring, feeling cold clarity sharpen her fuzzy mind.

Behind her Atton let lose a string of curses, massaging his abused appendages. Falen's nails had actually pierced through his drexl leather trousers. "What in space in is wrong with you? I try to help and you attack me! Crazy bitch." If Atton hadn't been so mad he might have noticed Falen was clad only in her underwear, quivering with either cold or emotion. She wrapped her arms around her middle and rolled onto her side. Kreia used the Force to summon a blanket off the bed and cover Falen.

"Out, Fool." The crone commanded her voice threateningly flat.

"Do not call me a fool!" Atton spat, full of venom.

"I will call you what I wish while I have to power to bring you pain beyond your limited comprehension. You have caused more trouble than I thought possible for one of such a restricted intellect. Get out while I tend to this mess; remove yourself before I remove your limbs."

Atton eyed the crone and the woman on the floor, his hands flexing spasmodically, wishing to have the comforting weight of his blasters. Sensing that discretion was the smarter option in this particular battle Atton scooped his jacket from where it was heaped on the floor and marched from the room, visibly bristling with anger and affront. Kreia watched him leave before using a liberal application of the Force to levitate Falen off the floor and onto her bed. With a brisk wave of her hand Kreia had the ex-Jedi stretched out on the bed like a cadaver, blanket discarded to one side. She placed her hand on Falen's brow, the Exile watching her Master's actions with detached indifference. "Fool," Kreia muttered to herself. "Waking you while in the throws of such a powerful memory. I should have let you kill him…"

Falen froze as she felt Kreia's presence intensifying in her mind, cold fingers clawing at the edges of her consciousness, looking for something to let them in. _"Be still Exile, I wish to view that memory…"_

"NO!" Falen croaked, pushing Kreia away, lacing her action with the Force. Kreia staggered back a few paces, what was visible of her face stark with offence. "Don't' you _dare_ try that on me! My mind is my own!"

Kreia's offence quickly vanished, replaced with grim determination. She opened her mouth to say something but Falen cut her off. "No! I don't want to hear whatever you have to say. You may be my Master but you have no business in my memories." Falen rose from the bed and gathered her clothes, marching off to the refresher. Kreia watched her silently, hand and stump resting on her ancient hips. When she finally spoke she was alone, her voice quiet and heavy with understanding. "That is quite a scar you bear Exile…"

Later Falen emerged from the refresher dressed in her fawn tunic and leggings, black hair loose around her shoulders. She spied Kreia sitting cross-legged by the window. Outside there was very little traffic, a few speeders and cargo freighters droned past, Falen was surprised to see any at this time of the night… morning really. There were 26 hours in a Telosian day and it was currently three in the morning. She sighed and walked towards the apartment door, knowing it was no use trying to get back to sleep, some memories far too were persistent. She stopped by her bed to grab her pack, filled with medpacks, stims, a few grenades and other essentials. As she reached the door Kreia's voice called out to her. "Do not be too late Exile; we are leaving this place in the morning."

Falen did not reply. She slipped out of the room quietly, too absorbed in her own thoughts to reply to her Master's words. Her dream… no, memory had been so real, so painful, she had been trapped in it. Falen walked through the deserted residential module face in her hands. She was tired, feeling drained, as if she hadn't slept at all. She massaged her eyelids, suppressing a yawn and setting her pack comfortably across her shoulder, its strap cutting between her breasts. Residual fear still haunted her and Falen kept her senses razor sharp, at the same time trying to convince herself that she wasn't being paranoid. _After all_, she told herself, _Kreia did council to be aware of my surroundings at all times…_

Falen wrapped her arms around her middle, still feeling slightly exposed. She felt comforted remembering that she had her boot knife on her, as well as a small vibrodagger secreted at the small of her back. She struck out towards the Ithorian compound, wondering if they needed help cleaning up after the days attack and hoping to find the sense of the peace she could only find within the compound, glaring at the illuminated Czerka offices from across the nature strip as she passed. She powered up the stairs that led to the compound, the burning in her overused muscles a strange comfort. They told her she was alive. Earlier she had fought her way back into the besieged Ithorian compound. Czerka's mercenaries had captured Chodo Habat and were holding him hostage, and despite both Kreia and Atton's fixed disagreement she had rushed to their aid, the pair grudgingly accompanying her. At first Falen had been surprised at the number of combat droids Czerka had kept active on the station, let alone sent on the mission. She looked down at her left hand. The back was badly burnt, the skin pink and blistered from an electrical burn she had received. The fighting had become intense and Falen had become caught in a knot of droids and mercenaries. She had been so focused on keeping the mercenaries blades away from her stomach that she had not caught the droid charging her from the side. To save herself as the droid collided with her Falen had thrust her hand through a rent in the droids amour, ripping at the exposed wires with her bare hand. Grimacing at the remembered pain she stopped her ascent up the stairs to dig through her shoulder pack, pulling out a pair of black cloth gloves. She slipped the left one on delicately, gritting her teeth as the material snagged on the burnt skin. The Force would eventually heal the wound without a mark, but it was taking its damn time.

Falen reached the top of the stairs, already beginning to feel the calm of the Ithorian compound. She stepped around a large refuse pile, made of the remains of Czerka combat droids and discarded chunks of mercenary weapons and amour. She eyed the pile speculatively, wondering if it would help if she incinerated the pile with a well placed plasma grenade and a Force bubble. Disregarding the idea with a grin Falen proceeded into the compound, instantly feeling the peace wash over her like a wave. The Ithorian behind at the reception desk bowed deeply to her, placing a green hand between his eyes palm down, it was a sign of great respect among Ithorians. Falen returned the gesture, placing her burned hand between dark brows.

"Welcome honoured Jedi." The Ithorian intoned, "Shall I inform the Healer of your arrival?"

Falen was accustomed to the Ithorians love of ceremony and played along; she even ignored the title of Jedi. "You may inform your Healer, herd-friend. I have no urgent need to talk to Habat; I would just like to wander the compound."

"As you wish…" the Ithorian mumbled, turning to the intercom to inform Habat of her presence.

Falen walked through into the main compound, her appearance greeted with welcoming mumbles of the remaining Ithorian herd. The lingering aliens were scattered throughout the main room, some reading from datapads, others talking in small clusters and others fiddling with small plant specimens. Even at this time of the morning the Ithorians were bustling, Falen was sure they did not sleep at all. The main room itself was worse for wear, a few scorches on the formerly spotless floors and numerous blaster burns in the walls. Habat, with Moza in his wake, came shuffling from the direction of his quarters, bony arms wide in welcome.

"You grace my herd again with your presence. What can we do for you, herd-friend?" Once again Falen made the hand to brow gesture, smiling affectionately for Habat and Moza. Despite all Kreia's warnings and unpleasantness Falen felt a great companionship with the Ithorian's for some reason, maybe their sweet bumblings appealed to her.

"I was simply wishing to pass some time within the compound, Habat. Do not trouble yourself with me." The Ithorian leader looked scandalised, or at least Falen thought he looked scandalised. Ithorian facial expressions were so difficult to read. Moza and Habat placed a hand on each of her arms, leading her towards the gardens. "It would be no trouble. If it is not too dishonourable to ask so open I have something I would like to try with you present."

Falen let the pair steer her towards the gardens, unable to protest as peace overwhelmed her. She was right to come here; the absolute tranquillity was exactly what her troubled soul needed. Once inside the gardens Falen was seated by the large Bacci plant. She crossed her long legs and watched the Ithorians excitedly, wondering what they had in store for her. Moza trundled off to one corner of the gardens, returning with a dishevelled looking potted plant. He set the plant in front of her, Habat seating himself with oddly crossed legs opposite Falen. Falen reached forward and fingered the plants wilting leaves; they were waxy and dark in colour, covered in sickly pink pustules.

"We found this little one beyond the shields on the surface. It would not have lasted much longer in the chemical rains but with luck we managed to save it. The plant will not grow, and we cannot help it." Habat's voice was emotional, as if he were talking of a relative rather than a plant.

"It's sad…" Falen murmured. The words sounded strange to her mind, but yet, she knew the plant was sad. She could feels it hurt -its pain- through her fingers. It was as if the plant were crying, screaming in pain, and she could hear it. "It's in pain…"

"Heal it." Habat said. This was not strange to Falen, in fact, it seemed quite natural. She opened herself to the Force, feeling Habat mirror her actions. She reached out for the Force, but it was different to what she remembered. Before her exile the feeling the Force had always been like standing waist deep in the middle of a river, feeling its currents and eddies swirl through you rather than around. But now, it was like fumbling around in cold darkness, knowing there was warmth just beyond your reach. Always her fingers just brushed the power, dregs of it flittering through her. Each time she tried she got a little closer, feeling more of the power infuse her body. Strangely enough, it was only the times she truly concentrated on the Force that the darkness had enveloped her. Any other time it was an unconscious reaction, like the very fight or flight responses programmed into her brain -a throwback from the life before her exile. That life -that_ Falen_- was gone now.

_Falen stumbled in the darkness, alive with power, chasing the warmth. There was another in the darkness with her, its presence closer than the power that eluded her. The plant was at her feet, decrepit leaves blowing in an invisible wind. Falen leaned down and cupped the plant in her hands, seeing the taint that was killing it, a glowing red heart pumping disease. Angered beyond reason she pushed all the power she could towards the taint, wanting to rip it apart with her very teeth. Her power tore at the plant, ripping and destroying the sickness within. She could feel the leaves crumble under her fingertips. Falen groaned and fell to her knees, all her power spent and leaving her exhausted._

_The plant was singing._

Falen looked up. All around her Ithorians were buzzing with amazement and pride. In front of her the once dying plant was singing with life. It had grown taller, its formerly thin stem more substantial. The leaves were no longer dark and waxy, but rather a deep green and as soft as velvet. Atop the plant was a beautiful gold flower, its sweet fragrance overpowering. She leaned forward and plucked the fat-petalled flower from its perch, tucking it behind her ear.

"Amazing…" Moza rumbled, the present members of the herd echoing his sentiment, the combined voices sounding like far off thunder. Habat was still seated across from Falen, but he was slumped, his large green eyes full of weariness. The eyes were the only way to tell an Ithorian's emotion, Falen realised, watching as Habat's off-set eyes blinked slowly, dazedly. Falen felt quite the opposite; her body was buzzing from the fresh contact with the Force, she felt as if she could run and endless race. Feeling her left hand tingling Falen pulled off her glove, grinning at the smooth flesh. Not only had she healed the plant, she had successfully healed herself. Falen stood and stretched, working out the kinks that had formed in her legs and back. _How long have I been sitting here?_

"Glad to see you finally on your feet. I thought you'd fallen asleep or into a coma or something." Atton was leaning against the far wall, a full head and shoulders above the Ithorians that surrounded him. This time he had no smiles for her, his eyes were guarded. Falen felt her own smile fade, guilt making her drop her eyes from his cold russet gaze. Anger quickly quashed her guilt. _No!_ She would not let him make her feel guilty. He was the fool to try and wake after she had made it perfectly clear how she felt about such contact. Falen steeled her own gaze and glared at him, not backing down.

"How long till our shuttle leaves?" She snapped. Atton shrugged, generous mouth twisting with bitter sarcasm, "Oh, I don't know. About ten minutes."

"TEN minutes!" Falen barely resited the urge to hit him. She would never slap, it was far too predictable and feminine, but she would very easily punch. Gritting her teeth she turned to Habat, who was now rising shakily to his feet with the aid of Moza. She made a respectful bow, hand to forehead, not trusting herself to speak. Then span on her heel and marched from the compound, without a backward glance to see if Atton was following or not.

* * *

**Docking Module 126, Ithorian Docks…**

Atton stepped off the shuttle a pace behind Falen and the old witch. People milled around them; checking shuttle times, waiting, arriving or departing. Wall to wall blue holo-screens displayed incoming and outgoing shuttles, as well as what looked like a Telosian news report. Ignoring the cacophony around them, the trio walked calmly to the docking bays, Falen straight-backed and Atton watching her whilst scowling to himself. She hadn't talked to him since she had burst out of the Ithorian compound at a dead sprint, leaving him behind.

He couldn't decide whether to be angry or guilty or both. The scoundrel felt like smacking himself. He hadn't been this worked up over one woman since he was seventeen. She was screwing with his mind, being angry then smiling and laughing, attacking him then flirting. How could be blamed for fighting back in his own way? Damned Jedi was pulling his strings and he was dancing, well not anymore. He was no Jedi's puppet, especially not some crazy Jedi broad who talked in her sleep and had some of the freakiest eyes Atton had ever seen. What kind of person had golden eyes anyway? They were too unsettling, like they could see right through you.

Growling, Atton rearranged the four packs that were thrown over his shoulders. He'd been shouldered with the bulk of the group's belongings, four packs in all, while Falen carried two and the crone carried none. The gold flower now tucked into Falen's unusual bun was bobbing in front of him, its overpowering fragrance clinging in his nostrils along with the smell of the woman. Atton wasn't sure how'd she'd done it, it must be one of those 'woman' things, but Falen had managed to fix her hair into its usual bun while running. Atton resigned himself from anything else other than his own fuming, trailing after Falen reluctantly, following the flower rather than the woman.

Upon reaching the waiting Ithorian Falen explained their task and the alien amiably ushered them through the airlock. Inside was bare, except for a consol and closed door. Quickly Falen punched commands into the consol, grinning as her ears popped when the pressure equalised. Atton watched her from the corner of his eye, angry as much with himself as he was with her. She fascinated him; he couldn't keep his eyes off her, as if the one moment he looked away he would miss something amazing. There was a definite sense of _something_ about her, Atton didn't know exactly what, but he knew she was special. But Falen was a Jedi, or once was a Jedi, it didn't matter much which. Jedi lied, they manipulated and they used. He would not let himself be used, no matter how intriguing the woman.

Atton pushed past Falen and Kreia, walking briskly towards the small transport shuttle. Once inside he discarded his packs, seating himself in the pilots chair and beginning the take off procedures. He heard the footsteps of the two women ascending the ramp behind him, the sound masked by the noise of the shuttles engines powering up. Atton guessed both women counted on the ships noise and a lack of hearing on his part because they were deep in conversation, Falen seemingly receiving a tongue-lashing from the witch. Neither knew he was one step ahead of them.

"You should not wander in the darkness on your own; it can consume you if I am not there to guide you!" The crone chided. Atton remained seemingly absorbed in his work, giving silent if bitter thanks to his past training that enabled him to hear them now.

He could sense Falen's pause, hear her anger and uncertainty. "Nothing happened, Kreia. I don't see what you're so worried about."

When Kreia finally replied her voice was icily calm, frozen with barely contained anger and frustration. "That alien led you into dangerous territory. It takes much meditation and strength to prepare yourself for such a place. You are not ready, Exile!"

"You think I _enjoyed_ going there! That I _chose_ to?" Falen's voice was a venomous whisper. "That darkness is there every time I reach for the Force. It chills me to the bone, not to mention scares me witless." Atton's brow crinkled, he couldn't picture Falen scared. He didn't want to, for that matter. Last time she had been scared she would have killed him if the crone hadn't intervened. Atton quashed that thought. He could have beaten Falen, he'd had her pinned. There would have been nothing she could have done. _She would of killed you_, a voice in the back of his mind teased. Growling, Atton pushed the transport shuttle into an abrupt take off, feeling strangely pleased by the cries of shock from his female companions.

"Incompetent child!" Kreia bellowed from over his shoulder. Grinning guiltily to himself Atton snuck a look over his shoulder. Falen was an undignified lump, lying spread-eagled on the floor. She glowered up at him, eyes blazing and her bold nose crinkled in anger. Atton couldn't help but notice how cute the ex-Jedi looked flat on her backside. Kreia, on the other hand, looked far from cute. Her hood was askew, showing one milky white eye. Besides that she showed no other sign of discomfort. Suppressing a chuckle Atton turned back to the controls, taken by surprise when he felt a crisp smack across his shoulders, as if someone had taken a knobbly stick to his back. Yelping in shock he jumped from his chair, glaring at Falen and Kreia so hard his gaze could have burnt through the ships hull. Kreia's face -as always- was blank, but Falen wore a vindicated smile.

"Looks like I still got it." She muttered under her breath, never breaking eye contact. Atton was sorely tempted to wipe that smug look off her face. But, incidentally, he was not a stupid man despite what others might think. He had seen the Exile in action, and knew he stood no chance at facing her if the old crone was present. The pair seemed to have a connection that aided them both in battle; he couldn't understand it but was most definitely aware of. He wouldn't react, that's what they wanted. They were pulling his strings and he refused to react. He shot Falen a sarcastic smile before sitting back in his chair and, punching in the zone's coordinates, pulled the shuttle out of the hangar, making sure he gave women a bumpy ride for their trouble, muttering about 'spoilt Jedi princesses' under his breath the whole time.

He felt a weight on the back of his chair, the smell of Falen's flower announcing her identity. "Don't take it too harshly, Rand. I was only playing."

Atton replied with inaudible grumbles.

"You smell like sex," Falen sniffed, as if what she smelled offended her. In Atton's mind it probably did her being a Jedi and all. _Fraking Jedi…_"Not to mention, alcohol and sweat."

The pilot shrugged, grinning roguishly. "What can I say? The ladies can't resist me. Who am I to deny them?"

"You're disgusting. You could at least try some subtlety, like oh I don't know… a shower."

"Ouch, Gorgeous." he feigned offence, "You saying I smell?"

Falen clipped him smartly around the ears, "Don't call me 'gorgeous', Rand."

Rubbing the side of his head Atton scowled darkly, "This better not become a habit, Drax. I'm not one to take a beating easily."

"Really? You seem to be taking them pretty easily now." She laughed, the teasing in her voice burning his pride but Atton ignored the insult. "I'll stop beating you when you give me reasons not to." He had observed Falen for the last few days and watching her interact with others on Citadel Station had taught him a valuable lesson. Retorts didn't work on her as they did others; they seemed to push her on to infuriate you further. Benok hadn't learnt that lesson. Atton knew that if he kept this continued this banter he would end up bound and gagged in some cargo hold, if not dead. Not something he really wanted to consider. And some called him a coward! There was a difference between stupidity and survival, and right now trusty instincts were telling him to shut up and fly the stupid ship.

Eventually Falen grew tired of Atton's silence and drifted back to Kreia, whispering, although unaware that Atton could still hear her. "Something's going to happen, Kreia, I know it. I can't tell whether it's good or bad, but tie yourself into your seat." The crone's voice answered softy, "You are right, Exile. I can sense it too. Your precognition is growing stronger, I am proud that you have learnt to trust the sense so easily. Many Jedi have taken years just to trust such gifts. I also do not trust this pilot. He would crash this ship just to rid himself of us."

"He wouldn't dare…" So she did know he could hear them after all.

Their words died, and Atton buckled up his seat surreptitiously, not wanting them to know that he believed their Force magic. The less they knew about him, the better. Minutes slowly drained away into hours. He scanned out the ships cockpit window.Below green ground sped past, interrupted by craters and the occasional thicket of trees. A small huddle of buildings loomed, looking rusty and decrepit. Falen had told him Czerka had ousted the Ithorians from the surface and he guessed this must be some kind of Czerka base. Research base most likely. Researching the best way to leech every credit from the planet that they could, he thought wryly.

The ship shuddered violently, alarms blaring to life. The controls fought against Atton's grip, and it took all his skill, and almost all his strength, to keep them under his control.

"Get us out of this Atton and I won't kill you!" Falen yelled over the alarms.

Atton didn't respond. Sweat budding on his forehead he pulled the shuttle into a sharp turn, stopping them from crashing into a cliff face, but running a chance of loosing total control of the ship. Luckily he maintained control. The ground was coming up fast, and the shuttle was on to much of an angle. Throwing his entire weight on the controls Atton manoeuvred the ship alongside a shield wall. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and his breath was short and sharp when the shuttle finally touched the ground. Falen screamed, and Atton smashed his head on the consol.

Screams and shaking were the last things he remembered.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm officially 17 now, just had my birthday on the 19th. Got me a nice little ipod too :P. I know it's taken so long to update and I apologise. From now on I'm going to be updating two chapters at a time, just to make up for the wait. I'm going to bring out companion pieces to Wanderer's Redemption soon, collections of oneshots about Falen x Malak and Revan (can't forget Revan :P) maybe even a few snapshots of their childhood and their time in the Mandalorian Wars. They'll be up as soon as I can manage. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, review and tell me what you think. Yessum, more reviews! 


	7. Prey

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 6: Prey

* * *

**Telos: Restoration Zone 0031…**

"Ughhhhh…"

Falen clutched at her reeling head. There was a dome of blue sky above her, marred by a plume of black smoke that seemed to issue form behind her head. A dark circle flitted through that dome of sky, moving fast enough to stop her from focusing on it properly. The circle tittered, moving closer to her head. Falen then noticed the circle's many photoreceptors. A remote. A heavily modified remote by the looks of things…

"_Beep frotz boop beep?"_ the remote queried.

Falen cocked an eyebrow. The remote had spunk. "That's a bit lewd for a droid isn't it?"

"_Boop blatt beep?"_

"Now that's _really_ none of your business!"

Glaring at the remote that was tittering at her once more Falen clambered shakily to her knees. The crisp smell of crushed grass almost as strong as that of acrid smoke. Behind her the shuttle had its nose buried in the ground, smouldering and ruined. Kreia and Atton were not far away, lying unconscious on the grass. Neither looked too hurt, Kreia had quite a bruise rising on her cheek and Atton's face was smudged with blood that leaked sluggishly from a nasty gash on his forehead. Falen crawled towards him on hands and knees, not yet sure she trusted herself walking.

Upon reaching him she pushed his shaggy fringe back with one hand, examining the gash. It was shallow, though head wounds always bled profusely. Falen sat back on her haunches and placed a hand over the cut, grimacing. Her urge to heal overwhelmed anything else she felt about Atton. He may be a sleaze and an ignorant fool, but he was hurt and she could heal him. The oath she had taken on the day she completed her medical training made sure of that. She had sworn to heal all who needed help, be them friend or enemy. Strange, she thought wryly, that some things she stuck to so stringently, when she had so easily abandoned others she had been raised to follow. But then again, exile would do that to you…

Falen reached for the Force, cold gnawing at her bones. She ignored the darkness that crept at the corner of sight and focus wholly on the wound before her, weaving the familiar flows of the Force that would knit the flesh together. The work was simple and something Falen could have done in her sleep. Force knows she probably had done it in her sleep a few times during the Mandalorian Wars. It was not unheard of. She could remember as a child, one time Revan had worked the Force in her sleep and all the girls in the dormitory had woken up three feet above their beds, floating on nothing but pure Force energy. Falen smiled to herself - now that had turned out to be an interesting morning. The Masters had burst in at the sounds of screams; Vrook's eyes had nearly jumped out of their sockets while Master Vandar had found the whole incident quite amusing. The episode had earned Revan three weeks of extra classes teaching her how to stop from channelling in her sleep, not to mention added chores.

"Need a hand there, General?"

Falen looked up so fast that she fell backwards. Lying spread-eagled in grass staring up at a complete stranger would have embarrassed anyone, but she managed to carry off the whole image with an air of dignity. The man standing beside her chuckled and extended a hand, which Falen eyes speculatively for a few moments before accepting. She rose swiftly to her feet. A little too swiftly.

"My head… it feels like it has been ripped in half." She moaned, clutching the offending appendage.

"Easy now." The man cautioned, his smooth voice easing her nerves more than anything else. He took a firm hold on her shoulders and steered her a few paces away from the unconscious Atton before sitting down companionably beside her on the grass. "You survived one spectacular crash. Lucky I was here to pull you and your friends out of that shuttle or you'd be more than a little crispy. But it's only fair; I owe you more than one, General."

"What are you talking about?" _General?_ Falen eyed the man beside her as if he were spare. 'He' was a Zabrak. A handsome Zabrak. Cool green eyes stared at her from a tattooed and scared face, a crown of etched horns protruding from his bald head. The scars were marks made purposefully, a coming of age ritual among the Zabrak people. One of Revan's old teachings flitted through Falen's head, '_The tattoo's mark the home planet while the scars mark the man's ancestry and achievements, only Zabrak men receive the scars…' _With a jolt Falen noticed the man's left arm. It was gone. Replaced with a prosthetic arm -or rather a hand made of shinning metal that was connected to another metal device covering his stump by a beam of focused magnetic energy. The flickering blue beam hummed softly, giving off and eerie light.

"You must be in shock from the crash." the Zabrak said with a soft glance, "Have to expect some long term memory loss from that." The remote that had annoyed her earlier appeared over the man's shoulder, and he turned to grin up at it. "Too bad she's not a droid huh?"

"_Beep boop."_ The remote replied.

"We can't all be that lucky." He turned back to Falen with a smile tugging at his lips; cool green eyes hold respect, and something close to affection. Falen was feeling slightly worried. Who was this man to be looking at her like that? And why did he seem familiar? "I'll humour you, General. I was one of the Iridonian mechanic corps that was at Malachor. Bao-Dur? I can see how you'd forget me, being that I was the only one."

Recognition exploded in Falen's brain. She remembered that face, those eyes, although the face seemed more defined than she remembered. Her once Chief Mechanic had definitely grown up in the years of her exile. The image of a younger Bao-Dur flashed behind her eyes; face stern but still bearing the look of adolescence, standing there in uniform with the blue and black flag of Iridonia embroided on his breast, a hydrospanner atop the flag marking him as part of the mechanic corps.

"I think I might recall you." Falen said, grinning up at him.

"Don't think too hard. I'd rather not talk about the war if we could. We all went through some tough times after Malachor, and maybe we all did a little forgetting." Falen nodded solemnly. Respect and understanding lighted her eyes, as far as she was concerned Bao-Dur was a man who knew and understood her pain better than anyone. He shot a glance at the remote, "Guess that's one thing we've got better than droids, they can't forget anything. But then, you give them a memory wipe and they forget for good."

Again Falen nodded, although this time distractedly. A groan from Atton eliciting her attention, "How are the others?"

"They'll be fine." Bao assured, "The pilots more or less unharmed and the old lady, well, she's tougher than she looks." he faltered for a moment, eyes turning inward. Finally he spoke, "You know, I never thought I'd see you again, General. Galaxy's a big place, and this was the last place I thought I'd bump into you. So I have to ask, just what are you doing here?"

She shrugged, "I was told I might be able to find my ship here."

Boa-Dur motioned with a metallic hand at the smoking ruins of the shuttle, a deep rumble of a chuckle forming in his chest. "Well, if your ship's in as bad shape as this one; I don't think you're gonna having much luck."

Falen opened her mouth to reply but was cut-off by a pained groan from Atton. The pilot began muttering crudely, listing off rather crass words in various languages. His eyes opened and closed fitfully, the brown orbs fuzzy and dazed. Falen smiled comforting at him and with Bao's help, pulled him to a siting position.

"Well, this is familiar." He groaned, "Feels like my last time on Telos."

Bao patted him companionably on the shoulder, "Crashed a shuttle that time, too?"

Falen watched the exchange with an amused smile. She had never understood the meaning men put into a pat on the shoulder. It must be some form of communiqué that only other men could understand, because women certainly never could. But then again, men and women could never communicate without something being lost in translation. Falen found the topic highly amusing as she checked Atton's vitals –a slow and steady pulse and his eyes were dilated normally- and pondered the dynamics of male and female communications.

"No, pazzak." Atton replied from behind Falen as she leaned in to check his eyes. He fixed his eyes on hers, because he dared not look and lower at the tempting amount of creamy skin that was visible from this angle. The woman was insufferable! And what in space was she grinning about?

"That was not the most pleasant landing I've endured. Next time, we should perhaps seek out a more reputable pilot."

To everyone's surprise Kreia was on her feet, looking as composed and slightly scary as ever. Atton scowled and Bao looked a little bewildered, but Falen simply took the crone's appearance in her stride. She had Kreia partly worked out now. The old women loved to maintain her mysticism. _Drama queen_.

"You're welcome, Kreia." Atton snapped his voice full of malice. "You know, if I weren't such a crack pilot, we could have hit the shield wall or one of those rock faces."

Bao started to nod in agreement, before ceasing quickly as Kreia's tangible gaze slid across his skin. "Yes, our current situation is a vast improvement."

Falen rolled her eyes. Atton and Kreia had just survived a crash and they were already at each others throats. "What shot us down?" she asked, hoping to distract their attention from each other before things got ugly… and Atton received the beating that Kreia would most surely hand him.

Atton was the first to answer. "Beats me. No one's supposed to be here but a Czerka research team. I can't say they'd be happy to see us, but shooting us down…? I can't imagine Czerka having us shot down by a bunch of scientists, either." Falen looked at him sceptically. "You know, I caught a glimpse of what looked like an AD tower as we flew over the compound."

"Why would a research station have an air defense tower?" Falen said absently, fingering a singed hole in her leggings. Damnit! She'd only had these civvies for four days and they were already singed, bloodstained and had grass stains all up the back of the legs.

Atton eyed Falen confusedly, talking over her heated mutters. "Maybe they're doing something they shouldn't be, I've seen pirate bases with the same sort of set up." _Why is she eyeing her leggings like she's ready to rip them apart with her teeth?_

Falen rose to her feet gracefully and began smoothing her crinkled tunic. She stood there in a manner that exuded such power it might as well have slapped Atton across the face. Standing there like that she was no longer simple Falen – in all her callous glory- she was a Jedi. The kind of Jedi that made kings and queens jump when she said 'frog'. It set Atton's blood to a steady boil. He hated Jedi; always looking down their noses at people, giving orders and expecting you to obey them without question. Atton hated to obey…

"Let's go. We need to find our ship." Falen sighed tiredly, she felt exhausted. When hadn't she been exhausted recently? These last few days had been more eventful and tiring than her last nine years in exile. All she wanted right now was to sleep for days, not go running around the surface of Telos looking for a decrepit old smuggler's ship and only the Force knew what else was going to happen on the way. Why in space was she the one who had this 'grand destiny' that Kreia kept raving about? Why could she live out the rest of her life out in exile like she had planned? _Damn the will of the Force!_

"I can help you find it – I have access to the shield network." Bao offered, rising smoothly to his feet beside Falen. "I came hoping to repair whatever damage your shuttle took, but not even I can fix that wreck."

"Let's get going" she snapped, itching to be off already.

"While I hate to state the obvious, we have no weapons." Kreia's dry tone made Falen feel like a padawan again, receiving a lecture from a disgruntled Master. Master Kavar and Atris, The Mistress of the Archives, had had particular skill at making her feel little. "What we did have is now smouldering with the shuttle our a_bysmally_ skilled pilot decided to crash." At that moment the shuttle thought it appropriate to collapse in on itself with a loud crash and an expulsion of smoke and embers. "And the Exile and I are not up to fighting an army of mercenaries by ourselves. The Force is powerful, but it is not limitless."

Falen nodded thoughtfully, she still was not too easy about using the Force. Hopefully she would with time; Kreia seemed to believe that it was pivotal, along with the removal of Atton as a distraction. In her own mind she was still an exile, forbidden to the Force in all its forms. Maybe it was her own stubbornness that kept her uneasy, or cowardice, she was not yet sure.

"That's not entirely true, General." Bao-Dur said, directing it to Falen rather that Kreia. He was brave, she would give him that. "When I pulled you out of the wreckage there were a few packs that I was able to save. Most of them were still attached to you."

"Convenient." Falen grinned.

"There is so such thing as convenience, Exile." Kreia interrupted.

Ignoring her self-appointed Master, Falen focused on Bao. "Did my vibroblades make it through?"

"What about my blasters?" Atton sat forward eagerly patting his waist holsters, "There was a fair few credits spent on their mods."

Kreia glided away to where Falen assumed their rescued supplies were waiting. With her disappearance both men lightened up, Atton's scowl fading and the tension in Bao-Dur's broad shoulders. The Zabrak was finely muscled for a mechanic. "Your weapons are fine." he comforted, "I removed yours General because it's not safe to leave you lying there with a weapon. My throat would be slit before you realised I was there to help." Atton seemed to find this funny, chuckling away to himself, Bao just cocked an eyebrow and Atton's laughter died when he realised the man was dead serious. "Yours I removed for safety reasons, Atton. You were injured and who knows what an injured man will to when he comes to with a weapon at hand. I've seen it happen in the war. Some men have killed squad mates before they even realised."

"Injured?" the scoundrel sounded puzzled.

"You had a nasty gash on you're forehead. That kind of wound leaves a mark, not to mention headaches. But the General healed you."

Atton cast Falen an unreadable glance, though she was sure it looked like he was about to say thanks. She would never know however, because at that moment Bao's remote came screaming into the conversation, blatting so fast that Falen found it so hard to understand. Atton just watched the floating orb with a look of mild contempt.

"_Freez boop beep blatt!" _

Bao didn't look too pleased. "He says there's mercenaries up ahead, right were we need to go. We're stuck in a basin created by the bombing of Telos, the only way out is through the shield wall or past the mercs."

"Gotta stealth generator?" Atton asked with a wicked gleam in his eye and a curve to his lips. "I could sneak up and teach 'em a thing or two."

Bao nodded, although looking uncommitted. Personally, he wanted to get up-close with the mercs and deliver a little pain. They had disrupted the Ithorians work and were dooming Telos and other Republic planets simply for prospect of credits. It was enough to make him see red. Falen was analysing his face with those unsettling golden eyes, neat white teeth chewing on her lip in thought. Realising he was watching her watching him Falen grinned dangerously.

"You want to fight them, Bao-Dur? Pass around a little pain? Can't say I disagree. Czerka deserves what coming, and I have a score to settle."

With that the Exile turned and walked off to Kreia; leaving both men watching her retreating form with puzzled faces. Atton ran a hand through his messy brown hair, muttering darkly about 'women' and 'Jedi'. Jedi in particular.

Bao looked at Atton. "A score to settle?"

The other man nodded, his glazed eyes indicating faraway thoughts. "Just be thankful you're not a Czerka merc right now."

* * *

**Restoration Zone 0031: An hour since arrival…**

Falen sighed as the final mercenary fell to the ground, his last breaths barely audible rasps. Placing a boot on the man's chest she pulled her blade free and wiped it on his shirt before sheathing it. She had found the mercs overbearingly cocky. Too bad they hadn't given a good fight; she had been looking forward to humbling them. But then again, death was enough. Not far off Bao field striped the corpses while Atton was fiddling with the controls of the landspeeder they had found with the group. Kreia stood beside her, silent and imposing, but in a way… protective.

"I don't like this needless killing, Kreia." Falen murmured, staring at the face of the man dead at her feet. Those lifeless grey eyes burned her.

"No killing is needless, Exile. Every death serves some purpose, whether or not that purpose is visible is another issue entirely."

"But…" Falen struggled to find the words, instead she walked away from the men a few paces, so they could not hear her. It was not good for troops to know their leader had doubts or fears. Kreia dutifully followed, although as if it had been her own idea entirely. "I could have reasoned with them, negotiated. That is what a Jedi does. I am a Jedi aren't I? I let myself get angry… I took revenge. I've never taken revenge." These last words were a bare whisper.

"No, Exile, you are not a Jedi. You are more. You are everything a Jedi would never become, because they are blind and restricted by their own fear. You will be a lot more things before your destiny is complete, saviour, murder, hero, fiend … It is what must be. These men would never have negotiated; such a thing is beyond them. They were ignorant, drunk on power promised and fear they had weaned from the weaker. Their deaths are necessary. I find it humorous" The old woman chuckled dryly, "That the greatest thing they could do with their lives was to die."

"I know what I must do…" Falen had to force the words from her lips and they cut like blades. She felt herself slipping. It's sadness coming on like the early days of her exile, the vast seamless hopeless weight of despair looking for someplace to fit. Vast enough to swallow her whole. "I know I have to kill. But it's not as easy as it was. I'm not a Jedi anymore, fighting for all the good in the galaxy. I am what I am… whatever that is. Now I'm killing because I can, because it serves my purpose. How do you do it, Kreia? How do you kill without it bothering you? I need to know so I won't go crazy."

"It is quite simple. They are prey. We are predators, born and bred to hunt and kill." She murmured, "There is no thrill like that of the hunt…"

Falen did not like the woman's answer, but she knew that she was right. It seemed she walked hand in hand with destruction and death, the Jedi Masters had been right about that at her trial all those years ago. Such thoughts were like weights on her shoulders, claws tearing at her soul, so she shut them away and knelt down on her haunches beside Bao-Dur, helping strip the valuables of one of the bodies. It was grim work, but one she had grown used to during the war. Killing bothered her, not corpses.

"Hey, General." The Zabrak spoke quietly, that voice like cool water. Falen could have listened to him talk for hours. "Are you alright?"

Was her turmoil that plain? She kept her face bent over the corpse until she could be sure it was serene. "You've lost me."

He gifted her with a sweet, joking smile. "You look like you've been standing too close to one of my shield generators."

"Are you sure you haven't been chewing on power cables?" she snapped. Once the harsh words were out of her mouth she would have given anything to take them back.

"Whoa, claws out today aren't they, General?" he said mildly.

Falen felt shame creeping up across her cheeks. "I'm sorry for snapping, Bao-Dur. Everything's just been weighing down on me lately, I feel like I have no say in what happens, After all these years of ruling myself I can't handle not being in control. I've gone from being on my own to having a Master and a destiny in days, it's quite disorientating."

Those big grey-green eyes radiated sympathy and respect, even reverence. And it terrified her. "I followed you through the war, General. I would have followed you anywhere. After you left we all felt lost. Some of us joined other commands and others just wandered away. I wandered as far from all the death as I could. I moved around for a couple of years. Working as a starship mechanic got be from place to place. I wasn't ready to settle down after the war. As long as I kept moving I didn't have to think about what happened. Know what I mean?"

"Only too well." Shame, among other countless emotions tied Falen's stomach in knots. She had fled Malachor like a coward, without a word of goodbye, leaving her troops leaderless and her family with no thought of their feelings. It had been suffocating, all those deaths. She had felt them through the Force in the skies above Malachor, smothering her. There had only been thoughts of escape, to run away from all the madness. But… she was only making excuses for her cowardice.

"I'm sure you do. I decided to do something constructive. I wanted to make up for the things I'd done in the war. I wanted to design planetary shields, but there weren't many systems with credits to spare – there was more that needed to be rebuilt than protected. I found out that Telos was going to be the flagship project for the Republic, and it sounded like something good. I saw Telos before the Sith razed it. It deserved a better fate. But Czerka ruined everything. I thought I could force Czerka out on my own, but I guess I can't fix everything myself."

"It's good to have you around again." she said warmly, smiling up across the tattooed Zabrak through her lashes

"It's good to be working with you again, General." he replied, beaming at her.

"How long are you two going to stare at that corpse? He's not going to be doing too much. The speeders are disabled, so it looks like we're walking." Atton laughed from over her shoulder, although when Falen looked up he didn't look like he was laughing. The handsome scoundrel was frowning, lines marring his forehead. Falen glanced at Kreia, wondering if the pair had exchanged words while she had been talking with Bao. The crone was impassive, standing there like a stature, her attention focused somewhere else.

Atton strode forward and extended a hand to help Falen to her feet. She took it gracefully, not one to make trouble when peace had only just been reached, and was shocked to see her own hand swamped by Atton's great calloused paw; his hands had never looked _that_ big. "I found some amour for you, Fal. Looks a little big, but it should do the job well enough."

Falen nodded and accepted the light powered amour suit when Atton handed it to her. He seemed pleased with himself, and gave her a charming grin. She opened her mouth to speak but she was cut off.

"The pair of you will scout ahead." Kreia barked at the men, "I have no wish to repeat the incident of Citadel Station and wander into another trap."

Falen scowled at the barb. That was uncalled for. Bao and Atton looked to her for an answer, and sighed resignedly when she nodded. Gathering their weapons the pair set off at a slow trot in the direction of the canyon that would take them around the rock faces that blocked their way to the Czerka base, and hopefully, their ship.

Hiding behind one of the disabled landspeeders Falen stripped off, gladly removing her ruined civvies. She put on the amour suit quickly, with swift movements that spoke of necessity. It was a little tight around the hips, and too loose around the shoulders and bust, but Falen was not one to complain. She knew well enough to appreciate what small blessings came.

Kreia watched over the dressings with the air of an over-protective grandmother ready to beat off any young men who thought they could come and peep on her favourite granddaughter. Falen chuckled to herself at the thought.

"It is extremely rude to laugh when no one else knows the joke."

"It wasn't really a joke Kreia, just the thought of you being protective." Falen was sure the crone would have raised a speculative eyebrow… if Falen could see them. _Does she even have eyebrows?_

"I will be as protective as I please, Exile. You are my student, and still weak enough to be seen as an easy kill."

"But, what if these 'enemies' see me as weak enough to be overlooked?"

"Then we will work that to the best advantage. But I would insist upon finding a safe haven after we leave this planet. A time undisturbed to work upon your skills would only be beneficial."

"Well," said Falen, settling her sword belt around her hips and tucked her boot knife into the shiny metal boots that came with the suit. Unsurprisingly there was a holster fitted into the sides of both boots, ready to receive. "We had better catch up too the men you sent away, Kreia. Who knows what they can get up to by themselves?"

"Yes," the crone agreed, "Men are such bothersome creatures, needing to be led by the hand in most things. They are best when properly trained."

* * *

**Restoration Zones: 2 hours since arrival…**

Atton watched the Zabrak out of the corner of his eye. Bao-Dur trotted next to him at an easy pace, his face unreadable and that loathsome droid buzzing around him. Atton hated droids. They were half-way through the canyon that would lead them out of the basin they had crashed in, and so far they had run into only one sentry droid, which had been dispatched easily enough. Now there was silence between them. Bao looked rather calm, but Atton couldn't help but fidget.

"So…" he ventured, "You served under Falen in the Mandalorian Wars?"

"Yes," Bao replied, "I was her Chief mechanic, in charge of her Star Cruiser's maintenance and that of all the fighter ships on her vessel."

"Oh?" said Atton, intrigued. "What was she like back then?"

Bao-Dur stopped and gave the scoundrel a searching look, wondering what he was up to. "She was a fine General, if young. The men worshipped her; we all knew that she'd give anything to keep us all alive; it was a comfort back then." The Zabrak gave a dry chuckle, "Imagine, the first sight of your General, sitting atop some poor soldier missing a limb, with her screaming at him that she won't let him die. We most certainly feared death, but we were also terrified of her retribution if we died. She believed it was her duty to keep every one of her men alive, and we all saw her mourn those she couldn't."'

"Has she changed much?"

"A lot," Bao's voice quietened so that Atton had to lean forward slightly to hear what was being said. "She was young when she joined the war with Revan. Only 19, I think. She was happy then, smiling and laughing with her Jedi friends. Oh, she's definitely changed. Her laugh's bitter now, but war makes you bitter. Her face seems harder, more careworn."

"You seem to know a lot about her for a mechanic." Atton replied, his smile softening the sting of his words.

"Chief Mechanic," Bao corrected. "You seem pretty interest yourself, for some hired pilot."

Atton shrugged and gave his blasters a skilful twirl. "I'm more a businessman. I like to know who I'm dealing with before I jump in head first."

Bao nodded, muttering under his breath. "Too late. By the looks of things you're already up to your boot soles."

The talk died and the pair walked on in silence, Bao's remote singing to itself in some binary code. The little droid was going out of its way to make itself known. The ground began to slope down and the canyon opened up, looking out over a gently lapping ocean and a shield wall in the distance, pink and orange clouds of noxious fumes pressing against the shield, trying to escape. Cannock's; quadrupedal predators with great bulbous eyes and a mouth as big as their body and a habit of eating anything they could find, were scattered along the shore, scuffling among themselves and running with their odd gait. From the shore there was another basin, larger that the first, with sheer cliffs, a few thickets of small trees and a waterfall.

"You two admiring the view? I must admit I didn't think you were the kind of men who appreciated beauty."

Bao jumped slightly at the sudden voice, while Atton only grinned. He had known she was there. If one thing could be said about Atton Rand, it was that no one could sneak up on him.

"Well hello, Gorgeous." He drawled, knowing that she would hate it. But hey, he was a gambling man. "And I happen to be a great appreciator of beautiful women."

"Aren't we all?" Bao grinned.

Falen's mocking leer dissolved with a chuckle and she stepped forward between the two men, her eyes locked on the ocean scene spreading before her. Kreia was right on her heels, silently menacing, ready to glare to death anything that came too close to _her_ Exile. Atton leaned back against on of the rock walls and pulled out a blaster to examine, watching Falen out of the corner of his eye as she walked towards the shore, Kreia and Bao-Dur in tow. He had never seen her in amour, and he change now shocked him. She always looked slightly dangerous, those sly golden eyes promising to hunt you down, but whatever danger she radiated was now tenfold. The Exile stood solemn and regal on the shore, reminding Atton of the pictures of the warrior Queens from back home.

Eres III had a proud history of Queens who had marched into battle along side their subjects, fought beside them, and on occasion waded into the thick of battle, simply so her men had had to fight harder to retrieve her. Every Eresmen was defensive of his Queen, but Atton had stopped being an Eresman long ago. The last Queen of Eres III had been Yaani Tol and she had died facing the Mandalorian invasion force during the Mandalorian Wars. Her two daughters Yasma and Jaimi had later been executed when the invading Mandalorians had stormed the palace.

"I always feel a sense of calm when I walk the surface of Telos. The Ithorians are truly amazing in their work." Bao-Dur said. Atton couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Amazing at wasting the Republic's credits, maybe!" he yelled at the trio on the beach. Falen looked at him over a slim shoulder, eyes running over all over him, analysing. Her gaze set his back up, but the weight that had been dragging him down for years seemed to disappear standing here, staring out at the sea with Falen watching him patiently. "But now that you mention it, I think I feel it too. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

Kreia' gaze oozed across his skin and Atton fought a shiver. There was a curious look on the crone's wrinkled face. He hated it when she watched him like that. On the other hand, he found himself wishing Falen was still watching him. She had turned away and was now crouched down beside Bao-dur, looking further down the shore. He couldn't quite hear what was being said, but then it didn't matter much; Atton was well versed in reading lips. A skill he had picked up in crowded, loud cantinas.

"There's a large mercenary patrol up ahead." Bao murmured.

Atton could see Falen crane her neck, lips pursed I thought. "Seven or eight. All in amour, blaster rifles, pistols and a single vibroblade each."

"There's too many of them and not enough of us, even for two Jedi."

Falen's hand went to her hip instinctively, clasping around the hilt of her vibroblade. She looked shocked at her own action. Atton knew what it meant though, she missed her lightsabre, he had seen Jedi make that move thousands of times… hadn't saved them either. "Kreia and I might be able, but it would cost a lot of Force to subdue them all. If we're to fight our way through more mercs just to get to that research base you mentioned Kreia and I are going to need all our energy. We could sneak past them, but that would mean leaving an enemy behind us and unguarded, not the smartest of moves."

Kreia stepped up and Atton inched closer, they were planning without him! _Him! _She was completely ignoring him, and after all he had done for her!

"Such weak men are not too hard to remove, Exile. Although, it would not be wise to leave them alive; with a little effort and planning we can eliminate them, but as for the cost on our energy I would suggest that if we do opt for an attack we make camp and rest."

Falen began to fiddle with the two braids in front of her left ear, a sure sign that she was in deep thought. Bao-dur grinned at the unconscious gesture; Atton guessed the Zabrak remembered it from his time serving under her. Falen must have been one hell of a general to inspire such loyalty as he could sense from the Zabrak. He was sure Bao would open a vein if Falen asked him, with no thought as to why, the fact that she said so would be enough for the mechanic. Atton snorted scornfully, such loyalty was idiotic, and it was simply asking to be betrayed. He would never be that loyal to anyone. Oh no, Atton Rand was his own man…

"Rest would be the best option." Falen finally said, "After that crash I don't think I could fight mercs all day without falling flat on my face. We can remove this group of mercs and take over their camp."

"That is well enough, Exile. But you must have some idea how the four of us are going to overpower the eight of them."

Falen stared out towards the mercenary camp, gnawing on her bottom lip and tugging on her braids. "Atton and I are best at stealth; we'll sneak as close as we can and roll some grenades… that should cause some chaos."

"Roll?" Atton looked at Falen with a quirked eyebrow. He was beside her now, sitting on his haunches and examining the merc camp before them. Four speeders made up the camp boundaries, with a campfire in the middle and sleeping rolls arranged around it. Here and there were a few footlockers and cargo cylinders, obviously holding food and supplied. _Much_ needed food and supplies if Falen was going to keep up this crazy vendetta against Czerka mercs.

"Yes, roll. The grass should cover the grenades path, and by rolling it we don't disturb our stealth fields. After the grenades are used we just throw ourselves into battle. Bao and Atton can cover with blaster fire while Kreia and I deal with them."

"A sound plan, Exile." Kreia praised and turned to the packs of supplies at her feet. Using the Force she opened them, as her one hand remained clutching the hilt of her vibrosword. Supplies; grenades and medpacks along with weapons floated out to them. Bao received a number of meds and stims along with a blaster rifle covered in mods. Falen and Atton received similar supplies but with a handful of grenades thrown in, stealth generators floating towards them on waves of the Force. Atton glared at the floating objects, threatened and unsure of the Force, and angry at his own hesitancy. Eventually he snatched them out of the air, before Kreia dropped them in his lap. It wouldn't be too pretty if that happened. The mercs would be scrapping them off the rock face.

Standing and securing the stealth generator around his waist Atton once again offered a seated Falen a hand, which she accepted with a smile instead of her previous grudging good grace. She engaged her stealth unit and disappeared in a shimmer. Cautious, Atton engaged his own stealth field. The woman was a devil, and space knows what she'd do to him just for laughs. There was a tug on his hand, and the sensation of a hand slipping into his own. He felt the nails on the end of the long fingers, and Falen's voice sounded to his immediate left.

"Follow me…"

Dutifully he followed in the direction the hand tugged him, over the small rise that hid Kreia and Boa and out into the open. The mercs voices drifted to him on the wind, men joking and laughing amongst themselves. They drew closer and soon Atton put voices to faces. A veteran mercenary, with a thick scar running from eye to chin was joking with the younger men seated around the campfire. He wandered through the men, patting some on the shoulder. Falen led him ever closer. The grass was to his knees when Falen stoped abruptly, Atton bumping into her.

"I thought you were good at this!" she hissed in his ear.

"I usually don't have a peach like yourself to distract me!" he hissed right back.

"Just shut up and listen, Rand. Stay here and count to fifty, once you're finished roll your grenades. I need you to cover me when the fighting starts, okay?"

"Sure thing, gorgeous." He replied.

There was a low growl and Atton sensed Falen move away. He sat just as she told him, counting to fifty in his head, three grenades at the ready. The seconds drained by slow enough to be annoying, and Atton began to finger his pistols expectantly. Old instincts died hard, and the hunt was one of his favourite things. Right now he had eight little birdies in his net, all of them unaware of the danger they were in. He grinned wolfishly. Time to hunt…

_Fifty…_

Atton rolled the three grenades in quick secession, and ducked low to avoid the blast. White light and heat exploded in front of him, ruffling his hair. As soon as the moment was past Atton was on his feet, pistols in his hands, eyes searching for prey. He had thought his actions were quick, but Falen was quicker. She was already among the stunned and bleeding mercs, dealing death with her blades. Three were already dead, one lying stunned on the ground, while the rest were on their feet shooting or at Falen with what melee weapons they had. Atton dodged what shots came his way, and opened fire on the survivors, careful to provide decent cover for Falen.

The woman moved like a snake, lithe and boneless. She wound around his shots, knowing were they were even though her back was turned. Bao and Kreia soon arrived in the battle. Kreia and Falen throwing men around like rag dolls with the Force. Soon only the veteran mercenaries were left alive. Falen clashed blades with the scar-faced man. Atton watched as she slid under his lunge, moving faster than humanly possible. She rolled to one side, laying open the man's flank with a precise slash. The merc ignored the wound and charged her with a bellow, single blade raised in a high guard. Atton shot at the man's feet, trying to trip him up. Unbalanced by a shot the merc pitched forward and was caught across the stomach with one of Falen's vibroswords. The man tumbled to the ground with as much dignity as a sack of dirt, whatever pride he had forgotten as he begged for his life on his wounded stomach.

"Please… please…please…"

The incessant begging caught Falen off balance; Atton could see the uncertainty in her eyes, as well as the pity. He knew she wouldn't kill an innocent. It made him proud to know that she couldn't, because then he could maybe follow by example. By the Force, he had a lot of innocents to make up for…

"Please!" the man sobbed, crawling forward on his stomach. He splayed his hands imploringly, trying to kiss Falen's boots. She kicked him away in disgust.

Kreia solved the problem.

The crone loomed over the begging man, driving her sword into his back without qualm. The man twitched and sobbed, and finally lay still. Falen looked at the corpse desolately. Kreia wiped her bloody blade on the grass and straightened her robes.

"I would ask you to grow a backbone, Exile. Many men will beg for their lives yet and you will not last long in this war if you intend show mercy to any enemy that asks for it."

"I will show mercy to whomever I wish, Kreia" Falen snapped back, knuckles going white as they clutched her sword hilts.

"Then you will be dead soon." The crone said solemnly. "The Force preserve you, because your stubbornness will not."

The pair stared each other down, Atton was sure he could see the electricity charging the air. Bao hovered behind Falen, concern on his face. The Zabrak would fight if Falen said so, but he was damn sure the man would think twice before attacking Kreia. A wise man would anyway, and Atton hadn't picked Bao for a fool.

"We'll make camp here tonight." Falen said to no one in particular, still glaring at Kreia. Atton shook his head; the pair kept on arguing like this then they were going to end up killing each other. He for one was putting his credits on Falen.

* * *

**Restoration Zones: 4 hours and 30 minutes since arrival…**

Bao turned the cannock carcass on the spit, wondering where his day had gone. First thing he's on the run from Czerka mercs, well, that wasn't that different from the other days, but the shuttle crash that interrupted his lunch was quite a shock. He had been enjoying his protein bar and listening to his remote, the next minute he was nearly crushed by a falling orbital shuttle and his old General falls into his lap. Some day. The Force was working overtime, Falen had said earlier, to bring them all together. Who was he to doubt a Jedi and the will of the Force?

Atton and Falen sat around the campfire, doing various things. The only one not present was Kreia, the old woman had vanished after her and the General's little spat, and Falen hadn't said a word about the crone since. Bao hadn't seen Atton happier since Kreia's disappearance. But, the General didn't seem to be worried and that was enough for him.

The scoundrel was stretched out on his newly acquired blankets, rags in hand, polishing his blasters till they shone in the dull firelight. His boots and outer clothing were discarded, leaving him in only trousers and brown singlet. On the grass between Atton and the General's sleeping mats were scattered pazzak cards. It had been enjoyable to see the scoundrel's shock as the General handed him his arse in the card game.

Falen sat cross-legged on her mat, hair down, combing it out with her fingers, Atton's ribbed jacket around her shoulders for warmth. Bao had been relieved when Falen had finally accepted Atton's jacket, he had thought the pair would keep arguing till sunup. Apart from the jacket she was clad in the jumpsuit of her body amour, the alloy plates having been removed. With her hair down the General looked different, her face was softened by her inky black tresses, that long straight nose didn't seem so harsh. Her fingers brushed though her hair with a hypnotic rhythm, and Bao had to mentally shake himself to stop from staring. He shouldn't be staring at his General! Atton on the other hand had no such concern.

"What's with the braids, Gorgeous?" the dark eyed man asked, leaning over to give one of Falen's braids a tug. She had quite a number. Two in front of her left ear, both only reaching her shoulder, another two ran down her back, one to her bottom while the other ran past her knees. She was starting another in front of her right ear, pulling delicate gold beads from a compartment in her personal datapad to tie it off. Bao was sure they had some meaning.

Falen scowled at the endearment, a line appearing between her brows. Bao had seen her nearly beat Atton for calling her such, but the man seemed too stubborn to give in. In the end Falen had, she no longer pulled him up on such things, and Atton seemed to delight in reminding her of his small victory.

"Each braid marks a special event in my life, if you must know." The General replied tartly.

"Really?" Atton leaned over once again and tugged on the longest braid. "What's that one for?"

"The Mandalorian Wars."

"Oh? And that one?" The second longest braid.

"My exile."

"What about the one you're starting now? Is it so that you'll never forget the day you met Atton Rand?"

"Oh please!" she laughed mockingly. Atton didn't seem too disturbed by the fact that she was laughing at him, rather, he seemed pleased that he was making her laugh. "This one is for this war Kreia had dragged me into and seems determined to groom me for."

"But what's with the whole braid thing, Gorgeous? It a cultural thing then, a practise from back home?"

Falen seemed to sadden. "No. Corasaunt was never home; I grew up in an orphanage there until the Jedi took me to Dantooine. Revan told me about a practise of an ancient race who braided their hair to remember particular events in their life. I guess I just liked the sound of the idea and took it up."

Atton paled in the firelight. "You knew Revan?" Bao didn't blame him, there were few in the galaxy who could hear that name without flinching. Revan, saviour, villain, conquer. Such destruction tied to that name could not be forgotten easily, not even when Revan had resurfaced around five years ago to redeem herself and kill Malak. Rumour said the Jedi had executed her for heresy, but Bao was doubtful. She was probably tucked up nicely in some quiet corner of the galaxy.

Falen sat up straighter at the mention of Revan's name, as if realising for the first time the name had been mentioned. "Yes, I knew her. She was practically a sister to me. She raised me. She was family."

Atton glanced at Bao in shock, "Well, that's a bit of a spinner. Our noble leader happens to be the little sister of the galaxy's greatest scourge."

"She wasn't a scourge!" Falen all but yelled. "She must have had a reason! She never did anything without a reason."

"How about 'supreme domination'? A good enough reason?" the scoundrel retaliated. Bao knew he should say something, but… he found himself siding with Atton. What reason could be said for Revan's actions other than greed?

"Shut up, Atton. You didn't know her; you didn't know what kind of person she was."

"I saw what she did to the galaxy, Gorgeous, and that's enough for me."

Falen hung hear head and Bao could practically read her thoughts. She hadn't been here to see what Revan had done; she couldn't really judge her old friend, not seeing the destruction she had caused. What worried Bao was the look of self-loathing that Falen wore. "I'm going for a walk…" was all she said before she rose and disappeared beyond the campfire light.

"That was smooth, Atton. Really well done; congratulations." Bao snarled, carving slivers of meat off the cannock carcass for himself, debating whether or not to go after Falen. By the look on Atton's face he seemed to be doing the same thing.

"Don't give me that, Bao. I know you agree. It's Revan we're talking about. The woman destroyed the half of the galaxy the Mandalorians didn't. She may have won the war, but she finished the job for 'em."

"You weren't there during the Mandalorian Wars, Atton. You didn't see them together."

"What do you mean 'I didn't see them together'?"

Bao settled himself resolutely, quickly downing the meat he had in his hand. If he explained this to Atton right then maybe the man wouldn't be so crass about the Revan situation next time it came up. "It wasn't usual during the war for Revan to appear anywhere; she was a smart woman and understood the mood of her troops could very well mean victory or defeat. She would listen to what soldiers had to say and do what was best for them. We respected her… trusted her. It was rare to see Revan and Falen apart. The General was always at the woman's shoulder. It may be said that Malak was Revan's apprentice and second in command, but we all knew that Falen was her true second. Malak was probably a decoy."

"So if Fal hadn't been exiled it would have been her instead of Malak?"

"You're smarter that you make out, Atton." Bao-Dur's scowl put a sting in his words. "Next time use your brains."

* * *

**Restoration Zones: 5 hours since arrival…**

Falen sat atop one of the larger rocks, her bare feet dangling into the sea. It was dark, light from what stars there were reflected in the water. Somewhere behind her a cannock screamed its strange gurgling call, echoed by another and another. The animals really were pests.

It had been a long time since she has seen an ocean, let alone had the time to sit and relax by one. The last ocean she had seen was a sickly one on some resource world in the Outer Rim she had been passing through during her exile. Mining colonies, industrial planets, spaceports, you name it, she'd been there. But never for long. A life of exile for a Jedi meant constant movement, until they could move no more and settled into some reclusive hermitage. Falen had prepared herself for that life and now everything had been turned on its head. She may never die old and alone in some forgotten corner in the galaxy; she may very well be killed in this damnable war she had been thrown into. She wanted to die alone! She had been ready to die alone!

"Why can't I damnit! Why can't I die the way I want to?"

"A bit early to be thinking about death isn't it, General?"

"It's never too early, Bao. Especially when you're me…"

"You shouldn't think so morbid thoughts, General." The Zabrak said, settling beside her on the rock. Silently Falen was grateful for his presence; she was getting sick of her own company. Nine years of yourself wore pretty thin. Bao-Dur's arm provided light, casting their surrounding in eerie blue. The whole scene was something ethereal.

Falen pulled Atton's jacket closer for warmth. "He's such an idiot." She muttered. There was no doubt as to whom she referred.

"It's not his fault. He just happened to ask the wrong questions."

"Look at you," Falen grinned bitterly. "Atton's champion. What brought this on, Bao?"

"I'm not going to sit by and let the old woman kill a man for insulting you with stupid questions, General. I don't think you would condone it… but Kreia seems ready to kill Atton, I think she'd jump at the first reason she could."

"I'm sure she would. But I wouldn't let it go easily, Bao. He may be irritating but he hasn't done anything wrong, he doesn't deserve what Kreia would hand him. But, by the Force, you'd think he'd be a bit more cautious around her! She threatens him enough."

Falen sighed and rubbed a tired hand across her eyes. She was exhausted. The day had been a tiring one, hell, the whole week had been tiring. Why hadn't they crashed somewhere with decent beds? Beside her Bao shifted, and the magnetic field of his prosthetic arm brushed against her own. It caused a tingle to run across her skin and the hairs on the back of her neck to rise.

"How'd you lose your arm, anyway?" she asked, watching the prosthetic limb as it shimmered and hummed.

He smiled down at her, "I got tired of it – kept dropping my hydrospanner. Figured I'd get a new one."

"Yeah?" she laughed, the soft sound mixing with that of the sea. The man was therapy on legs with a lovely pair of green eyes. "I bet that was fun."

"Actually, it was a souvenir from Malachor. I was lucky it was all I lost. But at least it gave me something to do, right? Everyone always said I was probably half machine anyway."

"'We travel towards the image we hold of ourselves.' Master Kavar told me that when I was a child. I was so shy back then. He told me if I pictured myself confident then I would travel to be that person. Knowing you this last day has told me you're anything but a machine, Bao."

Bao was speechless. Falen didn't seem to notice her companion's falter and continued right on talking.

"You're soothing, calm… wise." She laughed again, bitterly this time. "Simple logic, but enough to make me feel like an idiot myself. Or a child… I'm not quite sure. All that vaunted Jedi wisdom can be deluding sometimes."

"You flatter me, General." He murmured, still slightly shocked at this sudden outpouring from the woman beside him.

"I'm not your general anymore, Bao. I'm just Falen." She stared out to sea as she talked, eyes faraway. Bao guessed she was talking to herself as much as she was him.

"Whatever you say, General. I followed you during the war and I'll follow you now till the end."

"The end?" she whispered.

"The very end." He assured.

"That terrifies me…"

* * *

**A/N: **Ooooh, this has to be my favourite chapter! And the best, if I do say so myself, lol. I saw 'The Bodyguard' yesterday. Usually I avoid Whitney Houston like the plague, but I was tricked into watching the movie and OMG! It's so damn good! Kevin Costner is one big broody Atton Rand with short hair and suits. (Yes, I know it's sad… but I'm watching you… 00… so stop picking ya nose!) I'm in the market for a beta reader so if anyone's interested just give us a yell.

End of school for me foreva! WOOT. Maybe I'll update faster now? Maybe you need to review more? Lol.


	8. Snow White Queen

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 7: Snow White Queen

* * *

**Telos: Location Classified…**

Falen gave a joyous whoop as the giant fell, its demise a great sonorous rumble that made the very walls tremble. The Tank Droid was destroyed, lying on its side and covered in battle scoring. Her companions shared her relief at the defeat of such an opponent. Whichever crazed Telosian scientist who had designed the monstrous droid – which was very out of character, Telosian's being predominately farmers and artists – had most definitely been on spice. And with the making of such a droid why did they hide it in a hangar storage bay? Honestly, the logic of farmers!

She scrambled atop the prostrate hunk of metal, tearing away amour plating to open up the grenade compartments within. You can never have enough grenades, as Falen had so recently learned. Running out of grenades against this thing had been nearly fatal. Thankfully she and Kreia had been able to subdue the droid, but with liberal amounts of the Force. Now both were exhausted. She may not have enough energy left to heal what wounds her companions had suffered.

Even now, sitting atop a defunct droid the size of an orbital shuttle, Falen was running a diagnosis of her companions. Atton seemed to have the worst injury. His right arm was dislocated, hanging at his side on a sickeningly odd angle. During the battle the droid had fired a grenade at the scoundrel, the frag blast had not injured him overmuch, but in throwing himself away from the blast Atton had landed on his arm at a wrong angle and dislocated his shoulder joint. He seemed to be bearing up well enough, even if a little grey faced and thinned lipped. Bao was covered in cuts and bruises, and already plastering himself up with medpacks. Kreia was merely exhausted by her use of the Force; Falen herself was amazed at the older woman's stamina. After fighting their way through a small army of Telosian combat droids and turrets Kreia had still managed to pool enough Force energy to help bring down the massive Tank Droid. As for herself she was well enough, a few minor scrapes here and there, maybe a broken rib by her pained breathing and a whole lot of bruises. The damn droid had been outfitted with more weapons that an entire military squad! Grenade launchers, flame throwers, and high powered amour piercing blaster rounds were enough incentive to have her hoping around the hangar like a Nal Hutta hop-toad.

"I will procure supplies from that storage bay, Exile." Kreia said from her place beside the droid, the lines of her face etched harder by her exhaustion.

"As you wish, Kreia." Falen replied, sitting down atop the droid, holding a hand to her pained side. "Bao, will you prepare the shuttle for launch?"

The Zabrak nodded and disappeared up the shuttles ramp. That left Atton. "Atton, I would ask you to get inside the shuttle and sit yourself down, I need to reset your shoulder."

"Sure thing, Fal." The scoundrel drawled, although his voice was tight with pain. "How can I refuse when you ask so politely?" he was putting on a brave face even though his arm was most likely causing enough pain to merit a faint. Men!

He disappeared up the ramp and Falen was grateful that he had obliged so easily, but then again, most people became more agreeable when confronted by pain. Falen slipped of the droid instead of jumping, which could only damage her rib more. If it was indeed broken –as she suspected it was- then jumping around might cause her to puncture her lung and that would be hell. She would be of no use with a punctured lung. On the ground once again she made her way towards the hangar control room, there what supplied they already had were waiting. In the corridor outside the hangar mess and control room a small pile of backpacks were unceremoniously heaped. Falen gathered what she could, being careful not to strain herself. She made sure to pick up her personal pack containing her meagre belongings. Inside was her datapad that doubled as a journal -definitely something she wouldn't want to fall into anyone else's hands- and other odds and ends she had picked up. The only other real thing she owned was her alloy bracer that she had had in the wars. She was wearing it though.

"Can you get me out of here _please_?!" a male voice pleaded in Twi'lek. By the door leading further into the base stood a green male Twi'lek in Czerka uniform, although he was bordering on a strange shade of grey rather than green. Falen was sorely tempted to leave him here, after all she had no love for Czerka, but her conscience won out.

"See that door there?" she motioned to the door at the opposite end of the hangar, it was the way they had originally entered the base. "Just go through that door and keep walking until you find your way out. My friends and I already dispatched anything out there so the way's safe."

The Twi'lek bowed and spurted a litany of thankyous but Falen was no longer listening. She could only carry four packs at the upmost and that meant she still had two trips to make before she could get all the packs onboard, not to mention relocate Atton's and fix her own broken rib. The fact that she was no longer listening was dismissal enough for the Czerka scavenger and he bolted for the door she had indicated. Falen was glad to see him go. She hefted what packs she could and hauled them up the shuttle ramp. Once inside she placed the packs carefully on one of the two benches that ran the length of the ship. Atton was sitting uneasily on the other.

He grinned at her readily enough, so he couldn't be in that much pain. Some brave face, she thought wryly, if he wasn't grinning at her Falen was sure he'd be faced own on the durasteel by now. She set her shoulders resolutely, examining his dislocated shoulder from this distance. If she left it much longer fluid would build up, making the relocation harder and put him in far more pain. She would have to get those packs afterwards then. But, the physical strength required relocating that shoulder might be too much with her broken rib –which was defiantly broken, she could feel it with every breath- and could cause it to puncture her lung. Atton started to look worried and Falen realised she had been glaring at his shoulder.

"Bao, I may need your help with this." She said and the Zabrak rose from his place in the pilots chair to stand beside her. He eyed Atton shoulder speculatively. Atton shifted uneasily in his seat, cautious of his throbbing arm. His mouth fixed in a petulant from. "No need to act like I'm on trial guys…"

Falen's mind was a buzz, listing off possibilities and such without a conscious effort. If she positioned the limb and got Bao to provide the physical strength then she would escape further injury. She stepped forward, and with Bao-Dur's help removed Atton's ribbed jacket. It had to be removed carefully, as not to twist the injured shoulder muscles further. Once the jacket was set aside his outer shirt was next. The pale cream linen came away easily enough; it was a big enough shirt that pulling it off over his head was not much trouble. Atton grinned lecherously at her as she removed his shirt, his train of thought easy to read.

He was no better that a lusty Gamorrean at times.

With all the outer clothing removed Atton was clad in his brown under-singlet. His shoulder was a sight, a sickening lump sticking out of the back, the ball of the Humerus hand risen and twisted, lifting itself out of the joint - now both Humerus and the Acromion bone rose oddly, giving the left shoulder a hunched effect. Atton glanced at the damaged shoulder and paled. Falen laid a gentle hand, using her fingers to gauge the tension of the twisted muscles and also using the Force to Delve the injury and see the extent from the inside. Delving was a medical practise common among Jedi. Using small amounts of the Force one could create a mental map of the inside of a person's body, locating injuries and disease quickly.

"Okay, Bao, this is what I need you to do…" Falen took the man's hand and placed one on Atton's elbow and one on his wrist. "When I count to three you pull down, twist and push back up as hard as you can, I'll guide the bone back into its socket."

He nodded and settled himself determinedly. Falen placed one hand flat against Atton's back, she would need it to help push, the other griped the protruding bones delicately. As Bao pushed Falen would need to twist the bones downward so they slipped back into place. She grounded herself and glanced down at Atton, who was staring at her in turn. There was pain in those soulful brown eyes, although the man would loath to admit it.

"One."

Atton took a deep breath, turning grey.

"Two."

He clenched his teeth, preparing for the pain.

"Three."

In a coordinated effort of strength and skill the shoulder gave a sickly crunching _pop _and was back in place. Bao and Atton grinned triumphantly, a healthy pallor returning to the scoundrels face. Falen bit back the pain in her side and returned their grins. She put on her best commanding tone and patted Atton on his bare shoulder.

"It may not hurt right now, but it will soon. Whack some kolto on there now and it'll lessen the pain later. But don't overextend the joint for a few days yet, it's still fragile."

He surprised her by answering without his usual cheek, nodding solemnly and seeming to actually take her advice seriously. Falen hoped it was the beginning of a trend. Atton loved to play the idiot, and idiots annoyed her… idiots got themselves killed. If he got himself killed through carelessness then Falen knew she would blame herself, after all, no matter what she said to herself she _was_ the one who had gotten him into this. Just like Bao. If either of them died their names would go on the list of loss in her mind, alongside Malak, and add theirs to her little bundle of guilt.

"You okay, Gorgeous?" Atton said, snapping her out of her reverie. "You look like you're going to be sick."

"Oh?" she said, quickly composing herself and flashing the pair a wicked smile. "I was thinking about you, Rand. It often makes me sick."

Bao snorted and returned to the pilot's seat, continuing his launch preparations. Kreia appeared on the entry ramp laden with supply packs. Falen rushed to relieve her of some of her burden, and Atton in turn rushed to relieve Falen of some of hers. He looked rather ridiculous carrying supply packs with one arm, the other dangling uselessly at his side. At least he was following her advice and going easy on that arm.

Kreia shook her head admonishingly at Falen. "Two broken ribs, Exile. You should be more careful."

"It's kinda hard to be careful when I'm about to be crushed." Falen snapped tartly. Two? She thought she had only broken one.

"One would think that such would be a great enough incentive, but you seem to delight in injuring yourself, Exile. Sit down and let me heal you, those ribs pain me as much as they pain you and I will not put up with them for much longer."

As much as she scowled and grumbled Falen obeyed, sitting down on the bench as the crone placed her remaining hand on her injured side and healed it with little fuss. The job done Falen drew a huge breath, releasing it in a sigh of relief. She could breathe easier now. Her side tingled and buzzed with left over Force energy, it was an unusual, yet welcome feeling.

Kreia settled herself down on the durasteel in a meditation pose. Falen watched the crone from the corner of her eye. It had been a long time since Falen had meditated, well, only three days, but three days was long for a Jedi to go without. She was tempted to join the older woman but sleep beckoned with its siren call. Eyelids drooped and she stifled a yawn behind the back of her hand. Her bodysuit itched abominably. Oh how she longed to be clean! Grabbing her personal pack she settled down on the bench, using it as a pillow. It was not perfect, but she was in no mood to care.

"Have a good sleep, General." Bao called to her. "We've got an eight hour flight to the poles so have a good sleep."

Falen smiled in his direction and closed her eyes, falling into breathing techniques that had become habit for her before falling asleep. She drew a deep breath and counted to five, exhaled, counted to five, deep breath, five, exhale, five…

The aches and pains of the past days melted away as she was warmly embraced by dreams.

* * *

**Orbital Shuttle: En route to Telos Polar Region… ETA 3:50:00…**

The ship was quiet, save for the _hum_ of the engines and the breathing of those sleeping. The scoundrel was at the controls, singing away to himself in Huttesse. Kreia's mouth twisted disgustedly at the sound. The language of the slug-like swap beings was rough and inelegant. Enough to have her retching. Rough and inelegant… much like the pilot. Fool. How she itched to squeeze the life out of his idiot body. But that would come later… for now he had a use, it was hidden, but the Force could not keep its plans from her for long.

Rising silently to her feet Kreia used a small weave of the Force to dampen any sound she made. Stealth was pivotal at this point in time. The Exile was hiding things from her, past horrors most likely, but in light of the incident of Citadel Station, powerful enough to make her weak. She needed to know these horrors; she needed to know everything about her Exile in order to predict the woman's movements. Such an erratic and petulant student, but powerful… like her predecessors. Kreia was never one to abandon such a powerful student with a destiny, like the one the Exile had before her. It was an indecency. Despite the Exile's rashness she was easily manipulated and steered. How Kreia longed to see her best student again. Revan had been keen and shrewd, with a mind like a sponge. A most worthy student. But, alas, the Exile was not a consular like Revan had once been. The Exile was once a sentinel, such a nosy and interfering class. Always sticking their noses into the dark, believing in redemption. Ha! Thankfully, the sentinel's did not have the warrior skill of a guardian or they would such a trouble to kill.

Making her way swiftly to the sleeping Exile Kreia placed a hand on her dark brow. The woman stirred and murmured in her sleep before settling down. Kreia hoped this would be easy, for she had no desire to use Compulsion on the Exile and make her tell her secrets. Such force upon one's mind could be damaging. No, slipping in one's mind while they slept was far easier, as their minds were made vulnerable by dreams. She must do this now though, while the Exile was still weak in the Force. As her strength grew so would her senses and slipping into her mind would be most difficult, near impossible.

Using the Force Kreia Delved the sleeping woman, checking she was deep enough to sleep though. The Exile was deep in her sleep and Kreia slowly slid her consciousness through the Force and into the younger woman's mind. The minds currents carried her from dream to dream, and Kreia learned much. Images played before her like holo-films. From Mandalorians, to Revan, a dark-haired man with startling blue eyes, a dusty floor covered in blood, and finally Malak, grinning with such love and warmth.

Ahhh… things were clearer now. So she had been involved with Revan's puppy. Intriguing. The ties of this little group grew deeper and deeper. No wonder the Jedi had feared her, with the darkness in her blood and the breaking of her chastity vows with this man, she was a threat as great as Revan herself to the Jedi Order.

Slowly, slipping out of the woman's mind as not to waker her Kreia grinned. She had learned much this night. Her grin was dark and dangerous. It was the grin of a predator.

Again she settled down on the durasteel flooring. She found her favourite meditation pose, content with her work. It had been most productive. Now she must meditate on the images she had found within her students mind… most intriguing…

* * *

**Polar Regions: Abandoned Mesa…**

Falen stood alone in the abandoned chamber. The snows of this region still clung to her bones even though she had been allowed to shower and change by the women who had found her and her companions atop this mesa. The women –ghostly women, who wore all white and were identical in face and form- called themselves Handmaidens and had instructed he that she would go before their Mistress. This 'Mistress' disturbed Falen more than her maidens, even when they had watched her wash and dress. She wondered what woman could control a score of identical women, and what woman would have a replica of the Jedi Council Chambers secreted away in this cold corner of a dead planet?

Snows created no chill in comparison to the sight before her. The semi-circle of high-backed chairs were exactly as she remembered them, all they lacked were the Masters to fill them. The centre stone stood proud and regal as it always had, inscribed with the Jedi Code in a wide, flowing script. She gently reached out a finger and traced the words, engraved in the stone as they were engraved in her mind. She had lived by these words once; they had been her belief and succour, even now, after such a time without them they still stirred emotions in her belly.

Though these emotions were so different to what they had once been.

Were once they stirred pride now they birthed revulsion.

Falen had become disillusioned with the Code during the Wars. Both she and Revan had come to the realisation that the Code did not serve to keep them from the Dark path, it only served to keep them pliable to the will of the Jedi Masters. The Masters seemed to believe that students could not handle their emotions, so instead of learning how they were dissuaded from them completely. Kept bound by the Code and its words. Now this seemed far fetched and childish, but back then, drunken with the joy of their new-found freedom it had seemed right and logical. Even so, Falen would never have traded those times she spent with Revan, not the feeling of accomplishment in knowing she was actively saving the galaxy. Finally fulfilling the vision she had of a Jedi, a guardian of the light and the innocent, not some naïve historian locked away in the archives.

"I did not expect to see you again after the day of your sentencing. I thought you had taken the exiles path, wandering the galaxy. Yet you have returned – why?"

Speaking of naïve historians…

Atris, once Mistress of the Jedi Archives stood before her, previously unnoticed. Falen could see that irritated the woman. Atris watched her with cold blue eyes, disdainful and uncaring. One might have thought Atris pretty, but the lines of ill-humour and the scowl that twisted her rosebud lips destroyed the image. The white robes she wore only amplified this cold remote disposition. One Falen had gotten used to in her memory. Once Atris had been like a mother to her, secretly spoiling her and Revan in the hours they spent in study in her archives. But that had faded with the coming of the Mandalorians.

Falen schooled her voice to be as cold as Atris' very demeanour. "If you think I am here to see you, Atris, then you are sadly mistaken."

"Whore," the flat manner in which Atris delivered the insult increased its sting. "You should treat a Jedi with more respect. Or has your time in exile addled your brains."

Falen stared at the older woman in disbelief. _How dare she?! _"A whore, Artis? You call me a whore? You are the whore here. I loved Malak, and he loved me. You are the one who sold yourself to please the Council, to answer their every beck and call!"

"Don't mouth such rubbish, Exile. You are the one who ran away with Revan and Malak to sate you lusts. You whored yourself to the Darkside."

"I did no such thing. I fought for the innocents of the galaxy. The ones the council abandoned to cower within their enclaves!" Anger seethed within her. Anger at this woman before her –the _things_ she called her- and anger at the Jedi council's inaction. It gripped at her belly and tore at her gut, making those golden eyes shine with emotion.

"The Jedi Order only asked for time to examine the Mandalorian threat. They urged caution, patience. And you defied them. So when you returned, you were brought before us. You were a Jedi no longer and so you were exiled." Atris' tone was one of condescendence, sparking memories of history lessons and lectures. It made Falen's blood boil.

"I also recall you wishing me imprisoned… or worse." That betrayal was one she had not addressed since the day of her trial. Atris –her mother figure- demanding she be executed.

"There was much about that day that was difficult to forget – your words, your defiance- and when you stabbed your lightsabre into the centre stone. I have kept it – so that I would never forget." Atris pulled Falen's lightsabre from the deep recesses of her robes, flourishing the yellow blade for effect. Falen could see her name engraved on the hilt, as well as the small tracery Malak had put there as a gift on the day of her knighting.

With a detachment that shocked herself Falen spoke, eyes only for her old sabre. "I did not realise you still had it after so many years."

"I have always kept it, as a reminder of what can happen when your passions dictate your actions. I have kept it, so I would never forget your arrogance and your insult to the Order." Atris' eyes blazed with the depth of her convictions, daring Falen to gainsay her.

"Insult to the Order? Pah! You insult me by carrying it." Falen bared her teeth in a silent snarl, trying to put as much contempt into her tone as she could. This woman was speaking to her of insults? Atris should feel the sting of a deep betrayal such as hers and then talk of insults. _Then I might take her seriously. _

Atris gritted her teeth at the younger woman's performance, remembering how stubborn the Exile could be. "Then you misunderstand its meaning while it is in my possession – and what it now represents." Trying to level her tone into sympathy she failed dismally. The expression of emotion was not one of Atris' strong points. "But I am not unsympathetic to your feelings. Leaving the Order must have been difficult for you. Yet you gave the council no other choice. You gave me no other choice." Now she was pleading with the Exile to understand her actions, and angry at her own pleading.

"I went to war to protect others, not for battle." Falen said quietly, her eyes glazed with memories and budding tears.

"You went to war for Revan and your lover, not for the innocent. You met the aggression of the Mandalorians with more aggression. That is not the Jedi way!" Atris suppressed a shiver as those golden eyes blazed to life in anger. Such eyes were unnatural and a sure sign of Falen's fall to the Darkside. _They had to be!_

"And the council's way was to meet aggression with surrender? I'll take my choice any day."

"Every choice we make, whether we know it or not, sends echoes through the force. It can awaken feelings; ignite passions, hate, anger, fear – where none existed before. By meeting aggression, by serving as an opponent against which the Mandalorians could test themselves, you fed their hate, their lust for war. And it sent a terrible echo through you. And because of it, you and those Jedi who met them on the battlefield lost their way… and you turned on us."

Falen's tears became those of frustration and she wiped them away doggedly. _Would Atris never see her side?_ "Were you not tempted to help the innocent?"

"Of course I was. But the Jedi teachings require we examine how we may best help them – action without reflection is not our way. There was no guarantee that our marching to war would have saved the Outer Rim. In fact, quite the opposite." Atris sat down in one of the council chairs, the same chair she had occupied on the day of Falen's trial, hoping in would erode at the woman's endless reservoir of stubbornness.

Falen saw the gesture for what it was and it steeled her resolve. Atris would not best her in this argument! It would be like old times, when she and Revan would pit their minds and wills against that of the Mistress of the Archives debating histories or politics, though this time Revan was not here with her persuasive ways. "No, " she acquiesced, knowing Atris would jump at what she thought was a sign of weakness in Falen's argument. "There was no guarantee we would win. But if we had not acted, the Mandalorians would now rule the Republic."

"A physical victory perhaps, but the real victory lay in t-" As predicted Atris jumped at the chance to preach.

"… the triumph of pacifism? Surrender?" Falen interjected.

Atris scowled at her. "Do not twist my words!" she reprimanded. "A physical victory is not the only victory… or the only loss."

"Nice words…" Falen said tartly, arms crossed tightly under her breasts and booted feet planted wide she was the very image of determination. "But if we had listened to you we would be hearing them in Mandalorian right now."

"You don't know-" Atris began to say.

"Oh please. Anyone who stepped outside the Jedi archives would know it."

Atris leapt out of her chair, affront staining her cheeks prettily. Her hands balled themselves into fists, and Falen was sure the woman was about to draw her lightsabre. "_How dare you_? The Mandalorian Wars _should_ have been your _grave_ and Malachor V is where you _should_ have _died_!"

"Ahhh..." Falen smiled bitterly. "At last it comes out. Was it always this personal with you?"

"You see shadows where there are none and hate where there is none." Atris' flush of offence quickly became one of mortification. She adjusted her robes before finally looking Falen in the eye, her calm restored. "You are blind, as always. I tire of… fighting with you. You lust for war, and you always will. And you have succeeded in distracting me from my questions. So answer me. If you cannot seem to admit the council was correct, then why are you here?"

Falen sighed. She no longer had the energy to argue with Atris. "I am looking for my ship so I can leave Telos."

"Your ship – ah, the _Ebon Hawk_? It is not your ship, unless you are admitting to the destruction of the Peragus mining facility?"

"Look, do you have my ship or not?" Falen said tiredly, rubbing the bridge of her long nose.

"The _Ebon Hawk _is here, safe. Its records and navicomputer are being dissected to determine what caused the destruction of the Peragus mining facility. We are having trouble with the navicomputer… but I think with your cooperation, willing or otherwise, that will cease to be an obstacle. If it was your ship, perhaps I should be questioning you as to what happened – and why you destroyed the facility and murdered all the miners stationed there."

"Peragus' destruction was necessary." Falen said flatly. She could not bring herself to relate the whole story to Atris.

"Necessary? The destruction of Peragus was necessary?! You have not changed. Acting instead of thinking. Putting yourself before the galaxy, before the Jedi!" Atris gestured with increasing intensity, her face flushing once again with anger.

"I've had enough of this, and you."

Atris' mouth twisted into a sad smile and her eyes looked as tired as Falen felt. "It was too much to hope that you may have come here to finally admit the council was right."

"Just give me my ship, and I will depart." Falen felt strangely sad that this issue with Atris must be left unresolved, but the woman was still wrapped so tightly in her delusions of the council that Falen knew she would only be wasting her breath. Maybe she had hoped to see Atris one more time, the way she remembered her. Before the wars, before her exile, back when they were friends. _Too late now, _she thought bitterly.

"We shall remove her, Mistress." One Handmaiden murmured comfortingly to Atris. The white-haired Jedi nodded and waved a hand at Falen in dismissal. Hands wrapped themselves around her arms like bands of iron, but Falen refused to move with their tugs. "Beware, Atris." she called to the back of the retreating woman. "The Sith are back in the galaxy, maybe they never left. They're hunting Jedi, so be on your guard. Even here in your secret ice hole they will find you. They're using the Force against you."

Atris turned to stare at her former student, hate palpable in her ice-blue gaze. "Get you gone from this Jedi Temple, Exile. I have had enough of your war-mongering and malicious lies."

The hands tightened around her arms, and Falen was nearly lifted off her feet. Two white-clad Handmaidens mounted the stairs after their mistress and four more escorted Falen from the chamber. With a resigned sigh Falen pushed Atris from her thoughts, what was important was getting her ship and her friends back. She turned to the Handmaiden on her left. The woman completely ignored her gaze, although the stiffness of her posture told Falen how distastefully she viewed this duty.

"Can you tell me where my friends are?" Falen enquired causally, hoping to earn some kind of reaction from the stone-faced maiden.

"You will find them in the main irrigation channel room in the northern part of the plateau interior. The particle emitters there that once governed the flow of water to Telos can double as force cages." The maiden said, still refusing to look in Falen's direction.

" "So they are prisoners? Can't say I expected any less of Atris, she was always one for_ wonderful_ first impressions." Falen drawled. _Oh Force, I'm turning into Atton!_

"Watch your tongue, Exile." The maiden snapped. "Your friends were caged for their safety until we could determine your intent. Atris cautioned us against your tactics, fearing that your allies would create a distraction. Your companions gave us little trouble, however. The male could have presented some challenge if he had resisted, but he chose not to."

Upon reaching the entrance chamber the maidens released her arms and the bulk of her escort dissolved, only two women remaining to guard the doors through which they had just walked. To make sure the Exile didn't run back through and take a shot at their Mistress, probably. Falen was far too dumbstruck to do such a thing. She was staring at the maiden on the left, open-mouthed. "Atton? A challenge?"

The only things the man could challenge were joy girls and his own intellect.

"He has some Echani training. He masks it well, but when you were in danger, his mask dropped into a stance that we know well." The maiden stated this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Falen an idiot for not noticing.

"Where would he have gotten that kind of training?" Falen mused.

"I do not know. The Echani forms are known to be thought to military Special Forces throughout the galaxy. If the source is a mystery to you, perhaps you should ask him. It would be wise to know those you travel with."

_Oh thankyou_, Falen snarled in her mind,_ as if I don't know how to handle my own companions.

* * *

_

**Abandoned Mesa: Irrigation channel room…**

Falen stepped into the channel room quietly, expecting either sleeping companions or ones unconscious from a beating received from Atris' handmaidens. She was half right. Both Atton and Bao were out cold, asleep on the floors of their holding cells. Kreia was settled in her mediation pose on the floor of her cell, legs crossed and arms resting on her thighs. The older woman looked up curiously as Falen walked further into the room.

"Did you find what you came for?" the crone murmured as her student walked closer.

"That depends…" Falen smiled softly. "What was I supposed to find here?"

Kreia smiled at Falen's perceptiveness. "There was something from your past here – something unresolved. I feel we did not come to this place by chance – you were led here. This woman who resides here – she did something to you once… something that hangs upon you still?"

Falen shrugged dismissively. What happened between her and Atris was not something she wanted to share with Kreia. She kept what she did tell her as brief as possible. "She was one of the council who cast me out of the order… and wanted to punish me even further."

"Ahhh, I see it now. The act has left its marks. Be warned… unresolved events from our past can create wounds in the present, and the future. And more importantly, they can distract you… weaken you. It could prove fatal against the enemies we face."

_Especially considering the incident on Citadel Station..._

The thought hung heavy in the silence between the two women, both unwilling to give it voice and yet aware that it was on the others mind. Kreia watched Falen intently, waiting for the Exile's response and Falen felt like a padawan under her gaze, tugging on a braid and toeing the ground with her boots. Shaking off the awkwardness she stared defiantly at her master, "Let's talk about this on the way out of here."

"Very well," Kreia murmured, rising to her feet and fidgeting with her rumpled robes. "Let us depart."

"Ehhhhhhhhh…" Atton moaned, his eyelids fluttering as he began to awaken. Falen shot a look at her Master, who was watching the stirring scoundrel with something different in her demeanour. Falen couldn't help but wonder what had happened between them while she had been accosted by Atris and her Handmaidens. "What happened to Atton?" Falen motioned at the prone man, "It looks like you've mopped the floor with him."

Kreia's mouth twitched into an amused smile. Something about it had Falen's skip in bumps. "He is only sleeping – it seems the journey here has fatigued him."

"Well I better set you free then…" Falen said, turning to the cage control panel. _I better set them free before Atton rolls into the electrical field._ With the flick of a few switches the electrical fields shimmered and disappeared. Kreia stepped out of the confines of the cage and stretched her tired muscles. Falen rushed to Bao- Dur, who was struggling to his feet.

"I … am sorry, General. I must have lost consciousness in the crash." The Zabrak murmured, soft green eyes apologetic.

Falen wanted to melt into a puddle and laugh with relief. He felt guilty? "There's nothing to be sorry for, Bao." she reprimanded gently, a smile easing Bao's fears. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, General. Even power has been restored to my arm." The blue band of energy that connected arm to prosthetic hand buzzed to life. Falen looked at him sceptically. His face was ashen with dark smudges under his eyes and a nasty bump was rising on his forehead. Falen kept a supportive arm around his waist, keeping him upright and steady. She examined the bump with delicate fingers, soothing it away with the Force

"You've probably got only a mild concussion. Are you sure you're well enough to travel?"

Bao grinned at her. This was the General he remembered, so concerned with everyone's health before her own. "I am fine, General." He assured her, with a soft comforting smile. Glad the man was okay Falen pushed away her troubling thoughts of Atris, they could wait till she was alone. Bao noticed the sadness flit across her face and looked ready to ask after it, but Falen stopped him with a look. He nodded as a sign of understanding and bent to pick up the groups packs which had been dumped near his cell.

Falen walked over to where Atton sat, head between his knees. At her approach he looked up and grinned at her lopsidedly, groaning as he did so. "Ehhh… hey. You're back with us. We were just on our way to rescue you from those ghost women, when… uh, we got locked up."

She laughed at the look on his face. She reached down and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay? You look a little disorientated."

"Nah… don't worry about me, I'm fine." He said with a shrug, rising steadily to his feet. Falen caught his face in her hands and examined his eyes for abnormalities. The brown orbs smiled down at her despite the stiffness in Atton's posture. "Uh… how did things go with the Jedi here? Are you all done?"

"Yes, and they are done with us. They want us out, now." Falen said briskly, turning to accept the packs Bao offered for her to carry.

"Things went that well, huh? You make friends wherever you go, don't you?" Atton teased.

Falen grinned. "Until the galaxy runs out of people, yes."

Bao and Atton both chuckled as they sorted out the number of packs they would each carry. "Well that's encouraging." Atton said dryly. "Nothing like a steady stream of people who hate us or want to kill us to keep the heart pumping."

Falen paled considerably. She hadn't considered that. "You've done enough, Atton. You can go if you want."

Atton considered her for a moment, then for the briefest of seconds his eyes flickered to Kreia. He smiled uneasily at Falen. "Nah. I was just complaining. Heh. I'm with you until things start getting better for you. We need to stick together, you know? And who knows… I might be able to pull you out of a tight spot at some point."

She nodded; pleased to keep the scoundrel, even if Kreia thought he was a liability. Falen enjoyed his company. "You surprise me. I thought you'd want to jump ship as soon as you could."

"Ah, hey." Atton chuckled and patted her patronisingly on the head. "Don't mention it. It's my pleasure."

* * *

**Abandoned Mesa: Hangar…**

Atton smiled up at the _Ebon Hawk_ pleasantly surprised by the sense of homecoming. The ship was a pile of junk true, but with a little work, a paint job, new engines and some elbow grease it could easily be the best ship in the galaxy. Beside him Falen knelt down by that damned T3 droid. She was comforting the thing! Comforting! It was a droid! A bucket of scrap, it didn't have feelings!

He could feel Falen watching him; she'd been doing it since they'd left the channel room. It was starting to irritate him. Did she think him so weak that he couldn't handle himself after a little headache? "What?" he snapped when he caught her looking at him. "Look I'm fine, okay? I was just a little dizzy when I first woke up."

"I would have thought your Echani training would allow you to recover faster." she said dryly.

Kreia's head snapped up so fast her hood fell back to reveal one milky eye. "Echani training?" she echoed incredulously.

Atton's heart had stopped in his chest and he felt like he was chocking on his tongue. She couldn't possibly know?! Kreia can't have told her! "Huh?" he said, desperately trying to sound casual. "What are you talking about?"

"When we met those Handmaidens at the entrance, you dropped into an Echani combat stance. Where did you learn that?" she stood up from the droid. Both Kreia and Falen were watching him intently. He felt like some cornered animal.

"Oh, that." His hand snaked up to rub at the back of his neck like it always did when he was nervous. "Don't tell anyone, but you wouldn't believe how many fights you can prevent by just pretending to know that stuff. I mean, it doesn't compare to wearing a lightsabre, but then again, that doesn't help you much."

Falen flinched at the barb, "Don't change the subject."

Atton's heart was beating again and anger was thumping through his veins. She had no right to question him like this? He had no reason to explain anything to her. "Yeah? So what?" He rounded on Falen, poking a finger in her direction. "I don't ask any dumb questions about your past, despite the fact that it keeps throwing us into life-threatening situations. Want to know why? I figure if you ever want to tell me something, you will. So give me the same respect, all right?"

Her eyes hardened and she poked a finger in his chest. "I'm not accusing you; I just wanted to know if you had any useful skills! You could be a real asset with combat training."

Atton turned and walked up the ramp, T3 pushing past him with an apologetic '_dwoo_'. Atton was in no mood to notice. He was not some woman's 'asset'! Before he reached the top a noise snapped him out of his glowering and caused him to turn around. It wasn't Falen, she was also looking in the direction of the noise. A Handmaiden, the one that looked slightly different from her sisters was walking towards them. There was something in her face that was different, something that pushed her past pretty to beautiful. The white clad woman walked up to Falen and extended a gloved hand. Falen clasped the proffered hand.

"While you washed I saw a great many scars across your body, Exile." The maiden's eyes flickered to Falen's stomach, then back to her face, respect in their blue depths. "You are a warrior of great prowess, and I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

"So do I..." Falen murmured. She shook the maiden's hand and turned to walk away when the woman's hand caught her arm. "Please, Exile, before you go, tell me what its like to feel the Force."

Falen exchanged a look with Kreia and then smiled softly at the maiden. But to Atton something about that smile seemed pained. Kreia spoke first. "It is like the sun over your shoulder, with all the warmth and none of the glare." The maiden nodded, enthralled, and looked to Falen. She took a deep breath before speaking. "It is like the heartbeat of the galaxy reverberating through your body, connecting you with all life. It is pure life, flowing through your veins. There really are no words to describe it…"

The Handmaiden was wide-eyed with wonder. "I thank you for this small gift, Exile. I would that we meet again one day." The woman bowed to Falen and was gone. Both women watched her leave before pushing past him to enter the ship.

"You need sleep, Exile." Kreia instructed, leading Falen towards the portside dormitories. Suprisingly Falen didn't protest. Atton watched them go with a shrug. He was used to being ignored on the odd occasion, it may be a blessing, he was sure he would have snapped at Falen if she'd tried to talk to him. Better off if she slept and let his temper cool down, he didn't really want to hurt her, escpeically after what hurt the Jedi had just delt her. Whatever that Jedi woman had said had hurt her pretty bad; he could see it, even though she had tried to hide it. And the Handmaiden's muttering 'whore' as Falen walked past hadn't helped much, he was sure she would have pummelled them if she thought she could have come out alive.

Women! They were easier to understand when drunk. Come to think of it he needed some liquor. But he had better get the ship of the ground before the witch came and skinned him alive. Uhhh, he hated having to obey. Muttering and cursing to himself the scoundrel stalked off to the cockpit.

* * *

**A/N:** OMG I'm so glad this is done! Its was such a drag to write, being so dialogue (and Atris) intensive. 'Snow White Queen' is a song from Evanescence's latest album The Open Door. I brought it a few weeks ago and haven't stopped listening to it since. I LOVE IT! It rox my sox, lol. I am now a graduate of St Luke's Collage, Class of 06! Woot! It is such a good feeling to have school finally behind me foreva! Anywho… I hope you enjoyed these chapters, another two will be up as soon as I can manage, (which hopefully will be faster than usual) ;) 


	9. The River

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 8: The River

* * *

**Ebon Hawk: En route to Nar Shaddaa… ETA 15:45:10…**

Atton remained motionless as he leant against the doorjamb of the medbay, a pensive look on his face. Inside Falen sat on the single bed with T3 beside her, running an inventory of all their medical supplies. Her back was to him and she was unaware of his presence. Atton took the opportunity to observe. He had been angry at her when they had left Telos. Angry because she was asking things about him that he wanted to forget, asking about things he wanted no one to know, let alone her… sweet Force anyone but her!

Now, he couldn't be angry. He had seen the hurt in her eyes after she had talked to that 'Atris' and had thought nothing of it. He guessed the pair had gotten a bit snappy and something had gotten under Falen's skin, nothing too damaging. But after seeing the holovid of Falen's trail the droid had pilfered from Atris' archives he knew different. She had stood there elegant and striking, so assured in what she had to say that it radiated from her. It had scared them, the Jedi Council, her very presence had them terrified. He had been proud, strangely enough, watching her defend the innocents of the galaxy against the Jedi Council. And then the woman in white, Atris, had railed and ranted _demanding_ that they execute her. His fingers itched to wind themselves around her throat.

He smothered the thought as soon as it arose in his mind. He had come here to observe, not to brood… or plan murder. This was a rare opportunity to watch her unobserved and one he was not going to give up easily.

Inside Falen slipped from the bed and bent to rummage in a drawer out of his sight. Atton grinned. She had the most wonderful arse, even in those baggy grey trousers the Handmaidens had given her. He suppressed a chuckle and crossed his arms across his chest, enjoying the show. She began to hum as she stepped back from the drawer, standing on tiptoes to reach the top cupboards. Her hips moved to the beat inside her head, a slow, swaying rhythm that hypnotised him. He was probably a pervert for this, but what the hell, he was enjoying himself. She was a pretty woman, and pretty women deserved to be watched and appreciated. Yeah, that sounded about right.

"Ughhh…"she moaned and rolled her shoulders to release the tension there. "We're going to have to buy fresh sutures and bandages, even some gauze. The kolto is running pretty low… and there are absolutely no analgesics!" Grumbling as if it were the worst indignity possible Falen shuffled around the medbay, still unaware of Atton's presence. She began thumbing through medical datapads, setting aside ones she found useful and handing the rest to T3 for a content wipe. The astromech droid followed her every movement, like some adoring robotic puppy. The droid twittered happily away, Atton was unable to understand what it was saying, but Falen nodded her head every so often, as if agreeing.

Tired of watching Atton walked silently into the room, well versed in the art of sneaking. Falen didn't know he was there until he spoke into her ear. "Having fun, Gorgeous?"

Falen jumped and span around quickly, colliding with Atton's chest. With a muffled curse her head collided with his breastbone, near winding him.

"By all that is good in this damned galaxy, do you have to stand so close, Atton?" she snapped heatedly, pushing herself away from him.

Atton ignored her tone and massaged his abused torso. "You've got a skull harder than a Leigrek's hide, Drax."

"Oh, so we're back to 'Drax' now, thank the Light!" she muttered, glaring at him.

"Well if you prefer 'Gorgeous'?" he teased grinning down at her. "Don't scowl at me; it's really quite cute you know."

Her eyes widened then narrowed again. She really was gorgeous when she scowled, her nose crinkling in offence and those kissable lips pouting. He continued to grin and she snarled soundlessly, attempting to push her way past him. He stood his ground, and Falen battered his chest and sides in a futile to escape. It was when she kicked him hard in the shin that she managed to get passed, Atton crippled with pain. She stalked from the medbay with mutters of 'insufferable man!' and a face like a thunderhead.

Atton laughed to himself and limped out of the medbay, he'd never had so much fun irritating someone the way he had irritating her. The woman was a gem. T3 was hot on his heels, beeping in an admonishing tone, well, Atton guessed it was admonishing. He waved the droid away but it remained on his heels, following him as he walked into the garage.

Bao was working stoically as always, head buried in the repairs. Now he was working on what had once been a gaping maw in the side of the _Hawk_, reconnecting cables and wiring. The Zabrak did not notice his entrance, although both men jumped as a door slammed shut further down the ship. Falen must have stormed off to her dormitory. Atton was relieved. If she slammed her door then she wouldn't be able to hear what was being said here.

"Got a minute?" Atton asked Bao casually.

Bao suppressed a growl and prayed for patience. "I'm a little busy here. What is it?"

"Won't take more than a minute" Atton assured him, leaning back against the garage wall.

"All right," Bao sighed and turned back to his work, "I'll work while you talk."

Atton glanced in the directions of Falen's rooms then back to Bao. "Look. Falen – you know her from way back. But how much do you know about her, really?"

"Yeah, during the War, if that's what you mean by way back. Can't say I know too much about her though…" he replied, holding two cables for his remote to solder together.

"Better than anyone on this ship." Atton amended, "Just give me your opinion okay? And don't laugh!" Atton began to fidget, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He hated asking these kinds of questions; especially with the person in question not two rooms away and easily within earshot if she happened to open her door…

"I'm trying to work here, Atton."

"I was just wondering… if you thought, maybe… she and I might-"

Bao turned to stare at the man incredulously. "You're being serious?"

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" the scoundrel cried, mortified.

Bao raised his eyebrows and let out a long breath. "You are being serious. Atton, she was a general, I was a tech. I knew _of_ her, I didn't know her. Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well, what's your guess then?" he said, leaning forward intently.

Bao shook his head and turned back to his work. "I don't have time for this, Atton. I'm getting back to work."

"Hey!" Atton snapped. He wasn't putting himself through this embarrassment to not come out with an answer. "I'm being serious here."

"_Beep bereeep deep._" T3 interjected causing Bao to chuckle. Atton glared at the droid fingering his blasters. "You're laughing at me? I'll put you on the scrap heap, you walking tin can!"

The droid fled down the passage, calling out something behind it. Bao exploded into laughter, dropping his tools to clutch his stomach. Atton roared and bellowed threats and curses after the retreating droid.

* * *

**Ebon Hawk: En route to Nar Shaddaa… ETA 12:00:00…**

The noise had slowly faded, Bao's laughter had settled and it sounded like Atton had yelled himself hoarse. _Thank the Force for small mercies!_ Falen sat cross-legged on the flooring of the portside dormitory, deep in meditation. Objects circled around her like planets orbiting a sun; datapads, a pillow, shoes and even a bar of soap. Her eyes were closed, and her ears filled with the beating of her own heart.

_Tha-thud. _

She did not know peace, yet she was peaceful.

_Tha-thud._

She did not know time, yet it passed her by.

_Tha-thud._

She did not know love, yet she was loved.

_Tha-thud._

A river, a single winding body of light, love and life flowed through her, removing the darkness from her mind. Everything else faded, there was only this river. This river of life that connected her to the galaxy. She was flotsam on this river, carried away by its power. She slipped beneath the surface, loved and caressed by its undertow.

_Tha-thud._

There was no hurt, no pain, hate or anger. No Atris, no Kreia, no Malak… nothing to distract or confuse. All trappings and ties fell away. And she _was _the river…

_Tha-thud._

"Hey, Gorgeous…"

The river shattered and fell like shards of broken glass, her orbits wobbled and clattered to the floor along with it, leaving her breathless. Falen cracked open one eye, the golden orb seemingly glowing with irritation. The scoundrel stood demurely enough by the door, two steaming mugs in his hands. Demure on Atton was like beauty on Hutts. A load of poodoo. He cracked a trademark grin and stepped inside as Falen gathered the fallen items.

"What do you want, Atton? Come to see if you can annoy me further?" she snarled at him over her shoulder. She couldn't sake the feeling of loss.

He had the good grace to cringe at her scathing tone. "Well, about that… I've come to apologise."

Falen dropped the datapads she had in her hands and stared up at him. "Are you being serious?"

Atton scowled at her. "What's that supposed to mean, Drax?"

Her eyebrows jumped in surprise. "Wow, you are serious."

"That's the second time I've heard that today…" Atton muttered darkly. "Look, I came to apologise. Make fun of it and I'll turn around and forget about the whole thing." He gave her a serious look and turned to leave.

Falen laughed lightly and waved him in. "Oh, enough theatrics, Atton. Now what's this about an apology?"

Atton handed her a mug and settled down on the floor beside her, careful not to spill his caffa. The steaming back liquid sloshed but did not spill. Falen sniffed her own mug and sighed. The relaxing scent of some herbal tea wafted to her nose, with just a touch of Dantooine honey for sweetness. She moaned in appreciation, how did Atton know what she liked? He was grinning, beaming with pride.

"I knew you'd prefer that to caffa." He said.

He sat close but not touching, back propped up against the bunk behind him, one long leg stretched out while the other was drawn up, his arm resting on his knee. He was the epitome of casual. Falen settled next to him, resting back against the bunk. It made her smile to see he was barefoot. She hid her smile in the rim of her mug, taking a delicate sip. The tea was tart yet slightly minty, soothing and faintly sweet. She smiled blissfully and let her head fall back against the bunk.

"So, about this apology, Rand. You come in here bearing gifts of exquisite tea in the hopes of getting back on my good side?" she asked, head back and eyes closed. Unawares of Atton's hungry gaze roving the exposed flesh of her neck.

"Well, you know me." he said lightly. "Is it working?"

Falen snorted and opened her eyes to look at him. "You are forgiven. But, tell me, why ask?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I was being a bit of an arse and…"

"And…?" Falen prompted.

"You're the only thing stoping Kreia from eviscerating me on sight. So I figure that if I stay on your good side I don't die. Simple logic, really."

Falen burst out laughing. "Oh, Atton. I'm flattered, touched by the fact that you're using me as a ticket to stay alive. But, that means more gifts… and much more of this tea."

He played along. "Oh the gifts and the tea are a given, Gorgeous. I've gotta keep you happy if I want to stay alive. But…" he stopped, brow crinkling as he though his words through. Falen watched him curiously. "I don't trust that old witch and I'm praying that you don't either."

Her nod confirmed this. "She's using you. For this war, for her own ends, I'm not sure what but I don't like it."

"Oh, I know she's using me, Atton." Falen said. "She's got her motives, I've got mine. Enough said."

"Sure, but either way, I'll make you a promise." Falen sat forward intently, waiting, silently urging him to continue. "No matter what's going on I'll tell you the truth. You can always know I'm giving you an honest, straight answer. There are some things you can't ask, some things I won't answer, but other than that I'm open."

She searched his face, seeing the slight smile forming on his lips, feeling her own curve in response. "Thank you, Atton. That means a lot…"

"Damn right it does. You know how hard it is for me to tell the truth? But seeing as you Jedi are all about being truthful I'll follow by example. Now finish your tea and give me a game of pazzak. The loser has to make the next round of drinks."

Falen laughed again, happy to be free of the sudden serious moment, and scooted back, making room for Atton to lay the brightly coloured cards. She grinned impishly, "Why bother, Rand. I mean, really? You know I'm going to win."

"Don't be too sure about that, Gorgeous…" he split the deck in two, shuffling them while Falen picked four cards from the side deck. Falen tried to ignore the 'gorgeous' reference but it bugged her. He was beginning to use it far too freely and she was getting used to it far too quickly. It was something she would have to remedy.

The pile gave her a three, a five, and a seven. Atton had an eight, a six, and a three. She was on fifteen and him on seventeen. Falen knew she didn't have a +5 card in her side deck, and by the grin on Atton's face he knew it as well. The best she could get from her cards was nineteen. Taking a deep breath Falen pulled the top card off the pile to her right. A four. Falen set down her side deck, prepared to stand on a total on nineteen. Something told her it was best. With a grin Atton pulled another card from the pile, he was taking a big risk. Sure enough his face fell at the +4 card.

"Best two out of three?" she asked.

Atton nodded enthusiastically and pulled a +7 card from the pile. "So, what where you doing when I walked in?"

"I was meditating Atton, you know that." Falen dew a +10.

Atton chuckled, drawing a +8 card. "I know you were meditating. But there was a look on your face, like you were seeing the happiest moment in your life."

Falen grinned as she pulled a +8. She knew there was a +2 in her side deck, now all she had to do was wait for Atton to have his turn. He took his time, eyeing the pile and then his side deck, then her. Falen met his glance with a smirk. He knew he had lost this one too. "It's hard to explain, Atton. You don't know what touching the Force is like."

"I guess I don't." he murmured, grinning as her drew a +5 card. "Looks like I win this one, Gorgeous."

* * *

**Ebon Hawk: En route Nar Shaddaa… ETA 8:30:18…**

Atton stirred the tea into the mug carefully, making sure to add the right amount of honey. This was the fourth time he had made her drink. Twice he had come so close to beating her, but Falen had luck on her side this time. Or she was using some Force mumbo jumbo to win. Either way he didn't really mind, making her drinks wasn't that much of an onerous task, especially when she smiled at him. Falen had kicked him out of her rooms after their third game of pazzak, saying she needed sleep. Whether or not she had actually slept he was not sure, but she'd muttered about 'the river' as she'd ushered him out of the portside dormitory. She'd emerged not long ago, looking fresh and happier than previously, insisting she help out in the garage. She'd fiddled with T3 and discussed lightsabers with Bao, returning with a list of components she'd need to construct a new one.

Now she sat in the galley with him, toying with the cutlery. Knifes and forks and the odd spoon floated around the room, held up by Falen's use of the Force. She sat at the galley's single table, watching him work. He could sense her amusement as if it was his own, but he could not tell what she was amused about. As he finished her tea Falen beckoned and the mug lifted gracefully off the counter, floating towards her through the air. She laughed at the look on Atton's face.

"It helps if I practise using the Force, so I can get used to it after so long." She explained.

Atton snagged his caffa of the counter and sat across from her, watching as a spoon cart-wheeled in the air before him. A drawer across the room opened suddenly and all the floating cutlery drifted towards it, settling back into their places within. "Better?" she asked with an almost smile quirking her lips.

"Much better." he replied sipping his caffa. She had a dark smudge of something on her cheek and her forehead, it looked like grease. He wasn't going to tell her though; she looked rather cute all smudged up. She watched him over the rim of her mug, eyes searching.

"Something bothering you?" she asked curiously, leaning forward.

"I was just wondering, why Nar Shaddaa?"

Her eyebrows rose and she shrugged. "Why not? There's a bounty on my head, and I think that dealing with that first is best. I wasn't looking forward to running all over the galaxy with mercs on my arse."

"For the record you have a wonderful arse, Drax." Atton grinned at her glare. "And I can't blame any merc for wanting to 'be on it'."

A spoon collided with the side of his head. "_And_…" she continued. "Nar Shaddaa would be a great place to gather supplies and lie low while we're still weak."

"Weak?" he asked puzzled. "A minute ago you were making the room float and now your week."

"Well, yes." she said rather dejectedly. "Compared to other well-trained Force users, like those assassins from Peragus, I'm as weak as a mewling baby. I'm at a tenth of my former strength… You have no idea how weak I feel."

"Well for now we're only fighting mercs and none of them are Force sensitive. So go all Jedi on them and enjoy yourself." Atton said hurriedly, trying to turn the subject away from the Sith assassins. "By the way, when we land on Nar Shaddaa I know a few stores were you can buy… things… you know?"

She looked at him interestedly, head tilted slightly to one side. "Things?" she asked with the barest of grins. "What 'things', Atton?"

He raised a cocky eyebrow, kicking back in his chair. "As far as I know, Gorgeous, those clothes you've got on now are the only ones you've got. So I was thinking I know a few stores where you can buy new clothes and panties…"

"Okay." She cut him off. "I get the picture. Thanks for the offer, although it worries me that you take considerable notice of my wardrobe."

"What can I say?" Atton shrugged. "I'm was born with a skill for observation."

Falen made an unladylike sound of doubt in the back of her throat. Atton sipped his caffa, watching her savour her tea. It wasn't staring or ogling, it was simply watching, something he found relaxing. Her every movement was graceful, as if meticulously planned but it was just her, the assurance of an accomplished warrior thrown together with the sensuality of a dancer –although she seemed oblivious to that part- it was enough to drive any man to distraction. And Atton was easily distracted. He stopped watching her and realised she was saying something.

"Where are you from, Atton?" she asked, a curious glint in those eyes.

On the inside he froze. He couldn't tell her without giving away what he had been. Falen read the panicked look on his face and jumped in before he could say anything. "Look, I know you have a past, Atton. It doesn't interest me to be honest. But, I've been thinking I can't place your accent or your mannerisms; I can't even guess what planet you're from."

He looked at her a long moment before replying, charming brown eyes coldly guarded. "I was born on Eres III, but I haven't been there in a long time."

"An Eresmen?" she grinned. "No wonder you're so tall."

He couldn't help but smile at her. "Yeah, but my father was taller." He opened his mouth to continue but noticed the sad look on Falen's face. She tried to hide it, smiling encouragingly at him, but he had become very good at seeing the pain in her eyes over the last few days. He remembered what she had said back on Telos, _"Corasaunt was never home. I grew up in an orphanage there…"_. Here he was talking about his home, to her, someone who had never had a true home.

"What is it?" she asked noticing the sudden change in him.

"Nothing, nothing… I don't want to talk about this anymore, Fal." he said quietly, staring into the bottom of his empty mug. She nodded, slipping out from her seat and leaving the room, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze in passing.

"The river brings us back what we lose." She murmured, so quiet he almost missed it. He watched her back as she made her way down the hall, towards the garage.

Atton sat alone in the galley, an empty mug beside him. His face was pained and suddenly weary as he stared into space, the past replaying for only him to see. What would this river bring him?

* * *

**Ebon Hawk: En route to Nar Shaddaa… ETA 1:00:32…**

Falen sat curled up in the co-pilots seat, knees drawn together and her legs pulled back against her thighs. Across her lap were a number of medical datapads, those she had kept from her inspection of the medbay. She had forgotten what it was like to have to find things to occupy yourself with. After leaving Atton in the galley she had gotten T3 and gone through the cargo hold, seeing what supplies they had at hand. For food they had enough dry goods and such to last them a few months and she had found a few scattered suits of amour and weapons among the cargo cylinders, not to mention a nice little handful of credits. Then spent a good hour and a half creating upgrades for her weapons, and repairing a Mandalorian Combat Suit she had found in the hold, outfitting it with a new regenerative underlay as well. After that was done she had gone to meditate with Kreia in the starboard side dormitory. She had submerged herself in the river for hours with nothing but joy and the beating of her heart in her ears to tell her she was something separate from the winding stream of the Force.

After that she had decided to read and ended up here in the cockpit, with Atton to one side, a companionable silence between them. Usually Falen enjoyed their banter, he was one of the few she enjoyed arguing with because she knew he would always be ready with a quick comment. It kept her on her toes. Just like Revan in her day.

The scoundrel was resting back in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, interlaced fingers pillowing his head and a number of pazzak cards scattered down his front. After the fifth time he had asked her to play him at pazzak Falen had lost her temper and caused the pack of cards to scatter over the room. He had only gathered a few before falling asleep in the pilot's chair. He really drank too much caffa. After being awake for something like twenty hours he had crashed, and now she wasn't sure she would be able to wake him up to land the ship. She might have to call Bao…

It took her a while to realise that Atton's soft snoring had stopped. She had been staring at her hands while she had been thinking. She turned to look at him and was greeted with those charming brown eyes, watching her intently.

"Something wrong?" he asked quietly, his voice crackly and hoarse from disuse.

"Nothing's wrong." She assured him. "What woke you up?"

He rubbed a hand brisk across his face. "Well, I felt you change. One minute you were… relaxed, the next minute all tense. I naturally assumed something must be wrong…"

Falen stared at him in shock. How could he sense, feel her 'change'? It must be the Echani training, she told herself. Atton read her thoughts.

"Being a scoundrel I'm either on the run or about to be. It comes with the territory that I'm aware of things while I sleep, it's a… survival instinct, if you will." He chuckled. "One that becomes extremely useful on Nar Shaddaa."

How could life be so bad? That you couldn't sleep in fear of losing your life or all you owned. It sickened her, the only thing close to what he hinted at was a planet she had visited during the Mandalorian Wars, a place called Taris, were the rich lived rich and the poor got crushed under their boot heels. Outrage bubbled in her, the urge to help, help anyone she could, anyone who asked…

"How can people live here?" she asked quietly, staring at the outline of the planet through the cockpit window, voice tight with emotion.

"I doubt anyone does by choice, Gorgeous. Mandalorians, mercenaries, war veterans, and pilots from the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil war ended up on Nar Shaddaa, from all sides of the conflict. When the last war ended, there was no place left for them to go. They came here and have regretted it ever since. Despite all that the planets good for one thing, getting lost." He gave her a meaningful look. "There's so much traffic on Nar Shaddaa, finding anyone on the moon's surface is going to be hard. We're going to touch down in the Refugee Sector. There's a lot more traffic there, and it's harder for people to spot you coming in… or find you once you arrive."

"How hard would it be to find a Jedi here?" she asked, already planning how to search for Master Zez Kai Ell.

"It won't be easy. Finding anyone would be difficult, but the Jedi guy, Zez-Eli-Ka, would be going out of his way too lay low, you know, bounty and all."

"That's Zez-Kai-Ell, Atton." she corrected absentmindedly.

"Whatever. I've plotted a course for the Refugee Sector, and we should touch down within the hour. Once we're down, we should finally be able to breathe easy. There's no way anyone's going to find us here. You should go get ready, Gorgeous. I heard you tinkering with amour earlier, chuck it on and grab some weapons. We're gonna need to look tough if we wanna survive long enough on Nar Shaddaa and find the Ell-Zeki fella."

Falen stood from her chair, stretching. She raised her hands above her head and felt the spine pop, curling her toes. With a content sigh she gathered up her datapads and swept from the room, flicking pazzak cards in Atton's face as she passed. She had to tell Bao and Kreia they were landing soon, as well as get her own stuff ready. All Atton had to do was land the ship. Falen pouted. Atton had it easy, she should make him go and pull Kreia from her mediation… now that would be something worth watching…

She shook her head, trying to shake a feeling rather than the thought. She felt… strange. There was an urgency, something like her precognition buzzing around in her brain. Her head was alive with the buzzing and her body tingled expectantly. Whatever it was trying to tell her was going to happen soon, a day… two days at the max. What worried her is that she couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

* * *

**A/N: **WOW, it's only been about a week and an update? I've outdone myself, lol. This is just a little bridging chapter, I couldn't think of much interesting to happen on the way to Nar Shaddaa apart from Atton's little question. I can't wait to start on the Nar Shaddaa chapters so they'll be up pretty soon cuz I'm so pumped to write them. I said ages ago I had a little shock planned for Nar Shaddaa so hold on to your gizka print undies! It's coming up so soon I can't wait! HOLY Frikin' squee!

I chose Eres III as Atton's homeworld for the main reasons that relatively little is known about it (so I'm free to interpret as I will) that it was attacked during the Mandalorian Wars and that it has an environment similar to that of Dantooine. So don't take anything I say about Eres III seriously, it's just made up from me, no cred at all.

Oh yeah, I've got some artwork of Falen to put up soon so I'll point ya in it's direction when its up, I'm so proud of it, it's like the best thing I've eva EVA frikin drawn.

AND!!!!!!!!

Only two reviews?! I'm so depressed!


	10. The Voice of Reason

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 9: Voice of Reason

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa: Refugee Sector: Landing Pad…**

"Ahhh… the beautiful stench of decay and desperate living." Atton said, drawing in a deep breath.

Falen glanced at him incredulously. 'The _beautiful_ stench…'? All she could smell were starship fumes, rubbish and excreta… even the sickly sweet smell of human decay. Not the most pleasant mélange of smells. She suppressed a cough and put a gloved hand to her nose, trying to mask the smell and failing miserably. To add to the off-putting stench she couldn't centre herself here, the Force was restless, turbulent, a whirlpool of despair and anger. It was enough to make her light-headed, and it seemed to be affecting Kreia the same way. Falen could feel it through the bond. After the emptiness of Telos they were now bombarded with so many emotions, it was hard not to wobble as she walked.

"This moon… it teams with life. It is difficult to centre oneself." The crone said, reading Falen's thoughts.

Falen nodded in agreement and turned to look at Atton, who through his arms wide in grand gesture. "Welcome to Nar Shaddaa." He said grinning down at her. "Towering buildings kilometres high and miles deep, with canyons so wide you could have a dogfight in them. A word of warning," he motioned to the rail-less edge of the landing platform. "Watch where you step, or you'll fall for hours."

Falen glanced over the edge, and seeing the black nothingness below felt her head spin, rushed away, closer to the men, close enough that one of them could pull her out of the way in case she got to close to the edge. Both chuckled at her and she glared at them half-heartedly. She looked to the _Hawk_, standing solitary on its landing pad. The pad jutted out of some structure, noting around it but empty airspace. Above them traffic rushed at high speeds and Falen was just waiting for some ship to fall from the sky and smudge them all over the duracreet.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ looks a little exposed." She said absently, gaze wandering over the ship and the airspace above.

Atton shrugged, unperturbed by the prospect of fiery death falling from above. "Maybe a little, but landing here means we didn't have to transmit our ID signature, and you know what trouble that always brings." He crossed his arms and tapped his lips thoughtfully. "In fact, while we're here, we should get those signatures changed. Wouldn't make us such a target when we enter a new system."

"Are you sure we're going to be okay on this landing pad?" she asked, unable to shake the vision of burning ships falling from the sky.

"Sure," Atton said casually. "Most of the landing pads around here are unclaimed… or should be. They're pretty badly maintained, so they're not safe to land on. Well, I mean, not this one, but they all have the reputation, so we should be all right, I think."

"You think?" Falen raised a questioning eyebrow.

"All right, then, lets move out." he said, avoiding her question, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. "Uh, where are we headed exactly?"

"It does not matter where we go… if what we seek is here, we shall come upon it in due time." The crone spoke up.

"Uh… yeah. If you want to stay on the ship and meditate some more, don't let us stop you." Atton replied bitingly. Falen and Bao exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes. It would take more than the prospect of death to stop these two at each others throats.

"Let's see where our paths take us." Falen interjected before things got ugly.

"All right." Atton said, obviously eager to get away. There were cantinas and half-naked Twi'lek's not too far away. Falen wanted to laugh at the sight of Atton practically jumping from foot to foot waiting to be off. She was surprised he wasn't dragging them away by the hand. "If you have any questions, just ask." he instructed her. "We should be able to leave the ship here as long as we want; no one supervises these landing pads anyway."

"You! You there!"

There was a strange flying alien barrelling down the walkway towards them, waving outraged hands. Falen squinted to get a better look. It had a strange dangling snout unlike any she had ever seen, and small hooves that hung on the end of spindly legs, out of proportion with the rest of its body. Leathery, spined wings stuck out of its back, holding it aloft. It was altogether the strangest thing she had ever seen.

"Uh oh." Atton said.

"What do yo mean, 'uh oh'?" she snapped, rounding on the scoundrel. "Atton? What's uh oh?!"

"What's with you," the flying alien rounded on Falen, sensing her as the leader. "Letting that piece of junk sink its struts into my landing pad?"

"Junk?" Falen snarled defensively, hands on hips she stared down the hovering alien. "You're lucky my ship's gracing your trash heap."

"Eh? My trash heap? Hnh. Fine, land there!" the alien jabbed a fat finger in her direction. "My trash heap's all that's keeping your ship from making the final plunge. And trust me, it won't be long coming, I promise you. I got some visitors booked for your space, but I'm sure the two of you can work it out when they arrive" With a grim chuckle the alien was off, back in the direction he had come, leaving Falen rather shocked.

"'No one supervises these landing pads' Huh, Atton?" she snapped, a dangerous glint in her eye.

The scoundrel hung his head with a mournful shrug. Bao jumped in to save Atton from a certain pummelling. "What are we going to do, General? What's the plan?"

Falen rubbed the bridge of her long nose in irritation and thought. "Atton, Bao and T3 will come with me. Kreia-"

"I will remain behind to watch over the ship." The older woman interrupted. Falen was in no mood to disagree, rather she was relieved. She didn't want to walk around this place with Kreia hanging over her shoulder. The woman was a Jedi Council unto herself. Sighing with relief and a release of tension as Kreia disappeared up the entry ramp she turned to her remaining companions.

"Follow close, don't get lost and keep on your toes." She instructed briskly, the familiar role of leader settling easily around her shoulders. She unsheathed her vibrosword, did her best to put on a cocky expression and sauntered down the walkway, blade clenched in her fist. Atton and Bao followed dutifully, Atton exuding endless confidence with his long-limbed loping grace and heavily modified blaster rifle leaning casually against a broad shoulder. Bao-Dur looked slightly brooding, marching behind Falen with a soldier's precision, rifle at the ready.

They rounded a corner, only to come across two thugs, a Trandosian and a Weequay, roughing up a man. They were circling him the way predators circle pray, watching, waiting for a sign, a weakness.

"You wander too far. Human" the Weequay said, running the tip of its vibroblade down the man's chest. "We warn you what happen, but your kind not listen."

"Break legs," the Trandosian hissed, slapping his blade against the terrified man's thigh. "Maybe you not wander so far."

"No, look!" the man cried, pressing himself hard against the wall behind him, trying to melt into it, desperately trying to escape their wandering blades. "You can't keep us trapped in the Refugee Sector. We can't survive there. You've got us locked in!"

The Weequay moved its blade to the refugee's throat. "Know your place, human. Your place is there not here."

It was the refugee who saw her and her companions first, he glanced at them and his face lit up with hope. His eyes were pleading, tears of fright streaming freely. Falen growled, tapping the flat of her blade against the palm of her hand. She kept her easy stance. It was a look that said she was dangerous, and she knew it. The Trandosian turned and noticed her, the wee-quay still busy terrorising the refugee.

"Nnh? Another human. What you look at?" the lizard thug hissed.

Falen grinned, baring her sharp dogteeth. "A bunch of corpses, if you don't leave that man alone."

The Weequay turned at the sound of her voice. Its face, ridged with scars and thick, scale-like skin seemed to light up. "One human, not amusing fight. More than one human, a little better, spill more blood."

Before either could move against her Falen seized the Force. She pushed into both their minds, sifting through thoughts and memories before finding what she was looking for. A brain was like one big switchboard, know the right switches to flick and you could do anything. Falen flicked a number of 'switches' triggering the brain responses that brought on fear. The pair began to whimper and the Trandosian fell to his knees, quickly dispatched by Falen's blade in the back of his spined neck. The Weequay tried to run from her, only to be caught by a blaster bolt from Atton in the back of the head.

With the thugs dead the refugee cried out in relief. "Thanks for your help; they would have crippled me for sure"

Falen turned to talk to the man while Atton and Bao checked the bodies for anything of value. "I couldn't stand by and let them hurt you." Falen said, patting him on the shoulder. "Why were they hunting you?"

The man was all too eager to help. He explained the presence of the Exchange and a local boss, a Quarren by the name of Visquis, who was putting the refugee's under considerable pressure. "The Exchange had been clamping down on the Refugee Sector hard, and I have no idea why." The refugee said to Falen. "They've started kidnapping people, hurting others… but there seems to be no reason to it."

Falen stored all the information away, meaning to pay this Visquis a visit once she could find him… or cause enough trouble to attract his attention. Mentally planning and running through scenarios he smiled at the refugee. "I was glad to help. You had better head out before you run into anymore trouble."

"Whatever your reasons, thanks." The man said before running off. Falen saw him leave but didn't really take notice, she needed to help the refugee's as a whole, all of them were suffering. But, before she charged headfirst after some illusive Quarren she needed to gather information, learn a little of the area. She didn't want to echo her blindness on Citadel Station and rush after another Quarren crime boss. A mistake this time would mean more than a bad injury. She could end up some chained amusement in a Hutts palace… or worse. Her mind didn't want to consider what might be. She turned to Bao and Atton who were talking quietly off to one side. Both stopped talking and watched her, Bao with readiness to obey and Atton with a cheeky grin. She could put up with that grin as long as he got her the information she needed.

"We're going to have to find information. I need to hunt down a Quarren named Visquis."

"Geez," Atton sighed. "You don't stop do you? One Exchange boss after another. Do you really want to end up some Hutts pretty?"

"People are suffering, Atton. And I'm going to help them; I have the power to help them."

Atton shook his head in dismay. "You realise this could be a trap? There's a bounty on your head big enough to have men drooling, Drax. The squid's probably using the suffering of the refugees as bait and you're walking right into it!"

"Well if he's trying to bait me then he's going to get more than he bargained for." She stated matter-of –factly, crossing her arms under her breasts defensively. Hopefully Atton wouldn't cause her trouble; she needed his help, not his stubbornness. She watched Atton serenely as he battled with himself, face finally falling. Good. He knew well enough that he couldn't win if he tried to argue with her. Pausing to sheathe her sword Falen continued walking down the walkway, where two refugees watched her with wide eyes.

One refugee backed into cargo containers, trying to get as far away from the golden eyed stranger as possible. The other looked at her respectfully, although he dry washed his hands nervously. "I saw what you did to those Exchange thugs, stranger…" he said cautiously, eyeing Falen and her companions, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of violence. "Can you spare a few credits, maybe to help another refugee in need?"

"Of course," Falen smiled reassuringly at the terrified man, digging around in the pockets of her combat suit before pulling out five credits. "Here, take five credits."

"Thank you, stranger… I won't forget your kindness." The refugee accepted the credits eagerly, bowing and scraping his way out of her presence. She watched him leave with a frown marring her face. Was life that bad here that five credits was such a sought after windfall? Something stirred in the back of her head. It was the tight ball of emotions sitting in the back of her consciousness, Kreia, unwinding like a snake. The crone was not happy. Falen wondered if that fiery death from above had finally delivered and wiped out the _Hawk_, leaving Kreia slightly displaced. Force knows it would take more that a downed Republic Star Cruiser to ruffle the old bird's composure.

"_Why did you do such a thing?" _the crone demanded in her head, Falen could almost see the admonishing finger._ "Such kindnesses will mean nothing, his path is set. Giving him what he has not earned is like pouring sand into his hands."_

Bao and Atton looked worried as Falen's eyes glazed over unnaturally, her face set in a slight scowl. She was glaring at the wall as if it had slapped her. "Nothing is set." She said insistently. "As long as there is hope, there is the chance for redemption every day." Bao and Atton shared a startled look. _What in space was going on?_

"_And would that be a kindness? What if by surviving another day, he brings a greater darkness upon another?"_

Falen's mouth quirked bitterly. "Does your pessimism run that deep?"

"_The Force binds all things." _The crone replied levelly, unperturbed by Falen's disgusted tone. _"The slightest push, the smallest touch, sends echoes throughout life. Even an act of kindness may have more severe repercussions than you know or can see. By giving him something he has not earned, perhaps all you have helped him become is a target. Seeing another elevated often brings the eyes of those who suffer. And perhaps in the end, all you have wrought is more pain. And that is my lesson to you. Be careful of charity and kindness, lest you do more harm with open hands than with a clenched fist."_

"That is a lesson I will never learn, for I do not believe it." Falen said to the wall sadly.

"_Very well," _Kreia replied within her head. She did not sound angry or disappointed, to Falen's surprise, rather she sounded resigned. _"But mind what I have said. Use your powers, but in their proper place…"_

Falen massaged her temples as the crone's presence withdrew from her mind, solidifying once again into a tight ball of emotions in the back of her head. She gave a grateful sigh, relieved that that she was gone and yet still unsettled. She hated the fact that Kreia had such easy access to her mind. Shaking off the feeling of invasion she rubbed brisk hands across her face, stopping when she realised the men were looking at her worriedly.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You making a habit of talking to solid walls, Gorgeous?" Atton grinned down at her. Falen hated it when he lorded his height over her.

"It was Kreia getting inside my head." She explained shortly.

Both men paled considerably. It seemed the prospect of having Kreia inside your head didn't appeal to them either. Atton went to pat her on the shoulder but at her glare he reconsidered. She had no time for his childish flirting games anymore. People here were starving and despairing –she could feel it, like a rock inside her- and all he wanted was to play touchy feely. Maybe if she broke on of his arms he would leave her alone…

"We best be going, General." Bao said softly. "Obviously standing still is not a usual pastime on Nar Shaddaa, people are staring."

Falen looked around, noticing for the first time the small crowd that had gathered to watch her. She glared at them and they slowly dissipated, throwing scared glances back at the crazy woman who talked to walls. T3 blew a raspberry at the retreating onlookers. Chuckling at the astromech's antics she placed an affectionate hand on the droids flat head, patting it as if it were some kind of pet. T3 made a strange noise; Falen guessed it passed for purring.

"_Bloop beep frotz dweee…"_ he said, nudging the back of her legs with his head.

"What did it say?" Atton asked her, eyeing the droid suspiciously.

"_He_ says that we should move before you start asking serious questions…" Falen said, eyeing him patiently, waiting for an explanation to the obvious message behind the statement. None was forthcoming. Atton paled and his hand moved to rub the back of his neck, a clear sign of his nervousness. Bao chuckled and shook his head at Falen's glance. Neither of them was going to tell her what was going on. It was one of those 'man' things. The kind of secret they kept between themselves, between men. She wanted to grumble and pout and rave and wave her arms around, not wholly because of them. This planet had her on edge, fraying her nerves to the edge of collapse. Falen knew she may explode at them for something trivial as this and she felt guilty at the same time as angry.

"I need a drink." She said with a defeated sigh, massaging the bridge of her nose.

"That's my girl!" Atton beamed at her and at the prospect of a drink.

Out of habit more than anything else Falen shot him a warning glance. The buzzing was back in her head with a vengeance, and she could not put as much heat in the glance as she would have liked. She grit her teeth and tried to apply the Force to still the buzzing but nothing happened. Bao interrupted her dour silence.

"General, the Hawk needs new parts and I need more materials if I am to repair it. I know of a good dealer on the docks…" While he would not openly request her permission to go Falen knew he was asking. She gathered a handful of credits from various pockets and the satchel at her belt, roughly two thousand if she guessed right, and handed them to him. Bao accepted them with a curt nod.

"Get what you need, Bao. Take T3 with you and meet me and Atton at the Cantina," she pointed to a large cantina with its doors illuminated with red lights, "in an hour."

Bao nodded and set his chronometer. "An hour it is, General." Before departing the Zabrak shot Atton a meaningful look over Falen's head, to which the scoundrel nodded. They were doing it again, that 'men only' thing. Falen held her frustration in check until Bao and the battered astromech had disappeared into the moving mass that was the crowds. She turned to Atton and he took an involuntary step backwards at the look on her face, his hands raised in defense.

"Whatever is wrong I didn't do it." He said quickly.

"What was that look you and Bao shared?" she asked quietly.

Atton eyed her for a few moments before dropping his hands. "That was a 'take care of her or you're dead' look, Gorgeous. I thought you were up on all this unsaid communication stuff."

"I am. But what passes between men baffles me." Falen murmured. She remembered spending time in her youth wondering the strange language –if it could be called such- that men possessed. Often she had been puzzled by the way Malak had acted around other men when she had been present. It had taken a rainy afternoon on Dantooine that for her to realise that he was being defensive and over-protective of her. She had been naïve then and uneducated in the ways of the male creature, yet even now they still puzzled her.

Atton was grinning down at her. "Well, we men have our secrets. What do you have planned now that you've got me all to yourself?" he winked at her. "I must admit I feel extremely vulnerable."

Falen punched him none too gently in the arm. "You'll show me to these shops you know of Atton, and then we will head to the cantina. No funny business!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Gorgeous."

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa: Refugee Sector: Side Alley…**

Atton leaned back against the wall casually, hands resting on the hilts of his blasters. It was dark, and he was half cast in shadow, one eye, a cheek and half of his lips illuminated in the red light that came shinning from the door space of a nearby brothel. He cast an imposing figure in the dark, his powerful profile highlighted. A joy girl clad in a diaphanous dress smiled coyly and fluttered her fingers at him but Atton ignored her. His thoughts were on the woman in the shop behind him. Falen was selecting clothing for herself inside; the shop itself was small and unnoticeable in this narrow side alley. She had been adamant in making him stay outside. Atton felt rather put out. He had been looking forward to this, and he suspected she knew so too.

Denied his fun Atton was dying to reach the cantina, he was craving a drink and a game of pazzak. The heat and bustle of Nar Shaddaa turned his mind to such vices as alcohol and gambling. That joy girl was getting prettier by the minute.

To distract himself from the joy girl who was now grinning and swinging her hips suggestively at him Atton rummaged through the pockets fitted on the inside of his jacket. He pulled out his small case of cigarras. Selecting one of the better rolled ones he put it between his lips, rummaging once again to retrieve his lighter. He drew deeply on the cigarra once it was alight, the sweet smoke filling his lungs. Atton released the smoke with a content sigh. He had not had a smoke in a long time, seeing as smoking aboard such a confined space as the _Hawk_ was foolish at best. He had no intention of giving Falen reason to believe him a true fool.

He amused himself by blowing smoke rings, surprised when the joy girl pressed herself against him.

"Hello, handsome." She purred, her hands running up and down the inside of his thighs.

Angered and more than half aroused Atton glared down at the prostitute. Her hands were agile and confident, and thoroughly distracting. The woman before him was not the one on his mind while those magical hands left his thighs to fumble with his belt buckle. With a jerk and a groan he pushed her away roughly.

"Not interested, sweetheart." He growled.

The joy girl grinned, her hands persistent. She winked and tried to pull his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. "On the house, my lovely, just cuz I like ya."

"I see your having no trouble making friends, Rand." said and all too familiar voice behind him.

Atton pushed the prostitute away once again, this time with more force, causing her to stagger. He turned to Falen, flushed with arousal rather then embarrassment. She stood there with packages bundled under her arm, full lips quirked in an almost smile and a slim eyebrow cocked. One hand was planted on a generous hip while the other held her newly purchased clothes. Those golden eyes were glowing with mirth. She was laughing at him!

"You know me, Gorgeous. Always up for making new friends…" he drawled, unable to stop staring at her lips in his lust and attempting to tuck his shirt back in and buckle his belt casually. She chuckled and eyed him for moments before turning to gaze at the joy girl. Atton knew well the look of two women sizing each other up, he also knew a wise man stood back in such matters. The joy girl crossed her arms under her ample bosom and raised her chin defiantly in Falen's direction. Falen looked blandly back at the woman. Her eyes stared down the length of her long nose, giving a stern impression, yet at the same time, one of extreme indifference, as if she were looking at something extremely boring and had been forced to do so. After seconds of silence the joy girl dropped her eyes and slipped away to stand back under the red-lit dooryard of her brothel. He guessed that meant Falen had won that little staring contest, not surprising really; the woman could have a rancour quivering in fear if she really set her mind to it.

"Are you coming?" she asked, turning to leave the alley. "Or would you prefer to spend some time with your new 'friend'?"

"I'm coming." He said gruffly, disturbed slightly by her cool indifference to the compromising scene he had just found himself in. He followed her quietly, unsure if he should say anything and determined not to let her see that nothing had ruffled his hard-earned composure. After minutes of following her silently, weaving through the mass of the Nar Shaddaa crowds and staring uncertainly at the back of her head, Atton spoke up.

"That was complicated." He murmured.

"Nothing is complicated, Atton." She replied. Atton was surprised that she had heard him above the general noise that surrounded them. She stopped walking and turned to look at him, angled face guarded. "You were looking for a little fun; I'm just surprised you weren't a bit more subtle about it. But then again," she added as an after thought, "subtleness had never been your forte."

The crowd milled mindlessly around them, creating a small island of space in the living, breathing sea of compressed and hurrying bodies. Atton had opened his mouth, ready to deliver a smart reply to Falen's words –that had bitten deeper than he wanted to admit- but he was interrupted. A small, rat-faced man was tapping Falen on the shoulder, looking impatient and petulant. As Falen turned to face him with her lips compressed in irritation he extended a hand for her to shake. Falen eyed the hand then eyed the man.

"What do you want?" she asked with slight contempt apparent in her voice.

"You're the ones who flew in on the _Ebon Hawk_ right?" the man asked without preamble. He didn't wait for either of them to confirm his question before continuing. "I'm Ratrin Vhek and you're flying my ship."

"_Your_ ship?!" Atton cried. The man was crazy!

Falen echoed his sentiments, but she didn't seem to believe him crazy. He could only watch as she listened to the man's case with a sense of interest. All this Jedi crap was going to get them in trouble. If she gave they guy the ship out of the good of her heart Atton was going to strangle her. He could see she was about to agree with the man, damn her!

"What are you doing?!" he hissed in her ear, "That's going to trap us here."

"Don't worry," she replied in a staged whisper, "flying the Ebon hawk is like painting a target on your forehead. I'm not doing him any favours."

Vhek scowled at both of them and nodded in Falen's direction with the barest jerk of his ugly head. Atton loomed over the shorter woman's shoulder as best he could, and Vhek's eyes widened satisfactorily, the man stepping back unconsciously.

"I'll be going now." Vhek sneered and Atton intensified his looming. "Get used to the solid ground beneath you." The man turned tail and hastily walked away with little dignity, leaving Atton feeling disgruntled.

"Lemme shoot him in the back," Atton whispered, freeing one blaster from its holster, "no one has to know."

Falen raised a hand. "Don't Atton," she cautioned. "You're wasting your ammo. Something tells me he's not going to be enjoying the ship long, trust me on this."

Atton holstered his blaster, surprised to find absolute certainty on Falen's face. She really believed what she was telling him. "Is this some Force mumbo jumbo?"

She nodded. "My precognition. Trust me on this one, Atton. Vhek isn't going to leave Nar Shaddaa alive, let alone with the _Hawk_."

"I'll trust ya this time, Gorgeous." He muttered, running a hand through his hair. Falen smiled up at him and tugged on his shaggy fringe. His stomach tied itself in knots at the closeness of her hand and Atton could feel the familiar hot lust bubbling in his chest. She was standing close enough he could smell her unusual scent. It reminded him of nighttimes and rainforests, flowers and exotic places. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to compose himself before she realised his distraction.

"There's a craving in the air… a hunger" she whispered. Shocked, Atton opened his eyes. Falen had her own eyes closed, her mouth open. Her face looked wistful, a slight furrowing of her brow showing pain and frustration. Atton placed a hand between her shoulder blades, steering her out of the crowds and next to the railing that marked off the central pit. Falen opened her eyes to look at him but they were vacant, occupied with something inside her. He guessed Kreia was making another mental appearance.

"The currents…" she breathed, her brow furrowing further and a hand moving to her temple, "they move so fast, almost frantically."

Atton could feel what she was talking about; it rased the hairs on his arms. It was as if the air around them was disturbed, swirling and turbulent winds of anger and greed. He tried to shut it out, but the feeling tore down what walls he hastily tried to build, almost sweeping him away as much as the woman beside him.

"But the anger and the desperation… is there some way to heal it?"

Despite the feeling that threatened to sweep him away entirely Atton kept himself grounded, using her voice as an anchor. If he closed his eyes like her and revelled they would be easy targets to any cutpurse who wanted a try. They'd have their throats sit and robbed blind before they even realised. He watched as Falen clung to the railing before her white-knuckled, her face serene.

"This feeling… how long can I keep these echoes around me?"

"Don't take too long, Gorgeous." He whispered even though he knew she wasn't even listening.

* * *

**Refugee Sector: Main Square…**

Falen stared up at Atton, shocked to motionless by the intensity of the moment. He was glaring over her head at Vhek who was going his best to disappear into the crowds. The scoundrel towered over her, her eyes level with his collar bone. One hand on a blaster and the other clenched into a menacing fist his roguish image had changed to one of danger. Falen was enthralled. His smell was in her nostrils, blocking out the smells of Nar Shaddaa. Leather, linen, cigarra smoke and man were his smells, there was even a hint of spice –even through she was sure he had touched none recently. She could only stare at him, her body and mind frozen while her stomach did somersaults. It wasn't desire, or love or anything she could recognise that kept her there.

"I'll trust ya this time, Gorgeous." He muttered, the moment shattered like glass. Above her he ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, bringing a smile to Falen's lips. He didn't look too pleased with her, but Falen didn't need is approval. He sighed and glanced down at her. Those brown eyes were darker than she remembered, turbulent somehow…

Before she could help herself Falen raised a hand and tugged affectionately on the strands of hair that hung in front of his right eye. His eyes widened and glazed, the pulse in his neck visibly jumping. Falen felt her own jump in response, a shiver raising her skin to bumps. His closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. She tried to sense his emotions, but it was impossible. They were a great writhing mass, impossible to extinguish and untouchable as if on the other side of Perspex. The ball of emotions in the back of her head once again stirred to life.

"_Your thoughts are disturbed…"_ The crone murmured inside her head._ "I can feel them from a great distance, like a shiver running through you…"_

Falen closed her eyes and opened her mind to the Force. No longer distracted by Atton she could truly sense what had previously been affecting her. the Force was turbulent, disturbed. Its currents and eddies where chaotic. There was the usual despair and anger, which she had come to cope with, but it was magnified, coupled with an unexplainable hunger that turned her stomach.

"There's a craving in the air…" she whispered in reply, not realising she was speaking aloud, "A hunger."

"_It is Nar Shaddaa, the true Nar Shaddaa, which you feel around you. It is this moon, with the metal and machines stripped away and the currents of the Force laid bare."_

She frowned, trying to shut out everything, she needed to concentrate. She could feel Atton beside her, concerned and confused. His air permeated her concentration so she forcefully shut him out, willing her mind in the direction of Kreia's words. The crone was right. The Force was so fresh… so raw… she had never felt anything like it. Even the complete loss of the Force was nothing in comparison to feeling it so free, so primal. There was a hand between her shoulders. Pushing, gently guiding her. It was Atton's hand, she just knew it was. Trusting the scoundrel she allowed herself to be steered.

"The currents are moving so fast, almost frantically…" she whispered. She opened her eyes and saw nothing material, only the Force, its currents and streams. She was standing in the centre of a whirlpool, to weak to fight its pull. She gripped her temple to try and control her own urge to be so primal. It was an extreme effort.

"_I am surprised you feel it."_ Kreia replied. She was the voice of reason in this existence of anger and greed and hunger._ "I feared the damage do to you had deadened you to such perceptions… What you feel is the echo of the minds of these creatures within the Force. Their anger… their greed… their desperation. It is life…"_

She wanted to stop this madness. "But the anger and the desperation… is there some way to heal it?"

"_One might as well heal the universe…"_ Kreia said wryly._ "But such manipulation is possible, yes. It requires one to feel the critical point within the fractures mass… and know how to strike it in such a way that the echoes travel to your intended destination."_

Falen clung blindly to the railing before her. This was the most exquisite pain she had ever endured. It was as if millions of hands were caressing every inch of her skin, those hands then turned to blades of anger and hunger, then back to hands. This alternating pain and pleasure was maddening, she couldn't let it go.

"This feeling… how long can I keep these echoes around me?" she murmured, swept up in the sheer feeling of such raw Force. Despite the danger of losing herself she embraced it fully, never wanting it to end.

"_As long as it lasts. Like life, such waking moments within the Force are rare, waiting for the right moment when the critical point is struck, and the sound rises…But let us be silent… words and thoughts are distractions. Feel the moment, for as long as it will last. Feel life, as it is, with the crude matter stripped away."_

It was beautiful indeed…

* * *

**A/N: **I must be sick. These chapters are practically writing themselves. This chapter is kinda… silly. Maybe it's just me. But from here on it its all stations go! WOOT! 

I work at an ice-cream store on weekdays. It's the best job. FREE ice-cream!


	11. Playing Games

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 10: Playing Games

**

* * *

Nar Shaddaa: Refugee Sector: the _Red Rancour_ Cantina…**

Bao-dur has seen his share of cantinas, not as many as Atton obviously, but he'd seen enough. In his experience this one looked far more like a strip joint than a cantina. The place was lit with jarring red, blue and green neon lights. The lights seemed to divide the cantina into its portions. Under the red was the bar; while the green was the pazzak tables and the blue was the dance floor. Women -human and alien- were in stylised dance cages and clad in diaphanous strips of cloth. They were dancing, he guessed, although it looked far more like they were simply moving in such a way to make their 'attributes' wobble desirably.

"This place looks like a bloody strip joint." Falen muttered beside him, nursing her eighth brandy.

He chuckled and nodded in agreement; not at all perturbed by the fact that she had put words to his thoughts, or that she had more that likely read them. The General moved closer beside him, eyeing dangerously a Rodian who seemed intent on getting as close to her as he could. Clad as she was Bao wasn't surprised she was getting such attention.

The red blouse was practically a second skin, its low, square neckline showing off a considerable amount of cleavage. The black pants were no better, and the heeled knee boots only added to the image. The jacket she had been wearing had been lost in the perilous journey from table to bar, and Bao seemed to think the General hadn't even noticed its absence. She looked like a seasoned spacer, rough and tough, more likely to shoot you than look at you. He knew she knew, and guessed from the small smile tugging at her lips she was proud of her achievement.

"You can't be chuckling, Bao. You're meant to be my brooding second." She murmured low enough to be heard by him and no one else.

He responded automatically with a nod, once again reminded of the role he had to play. She had informed him upon his arrival of this little game of make-believe, his role to be silent and look dangerous. He didn't know where Atton was, or what role he was supposed to play, but the scoundrel hadn't been present at his arrival, and Falen didn't seem disposed to inform him. Bao decided it best to let that one lie.

He let his ale sit, untouched and unwanted. If things were as dangerous as she indicated, and by the deadly glances being thrown their way by the numerous alien patrons was any indication, he needed to keep on his toes to see both of them out of the cantina alive.

"I really don't like the looks of this cantina, General."

"I know, Bao." She replied. "Creepy and seedy is definitely an understatement, but it's the most centralised cantina in the sector and therefore an information thoroughfare. We need to find as much as we can if we're going to pull this off."

He didn't want to ask what "this" was, so simply nodded. She grinned up at him, gold eyes shinning orange in the red lights.

"Relax, Bao. You're an alien, one of them, if anyone's going to end up dead in the trash compactor, it'll be me." She reached up to tap one of his horns with a nail in demonstration.

"I don't see how that's supposed to be a comfort." He replied evenly.

"Really?" she asked, eyebrows jumping in surprised. "I do."

"If I'm not being to forward General, I would rather not discuss bodies in trash compactors at the moment. Or death for that matter. Let's just get this information and be gone."

"That's the spirit!" she said, winking and draining her glass. He wasn't sure how she managed. Draining eight brandies in nearly as many minutes was no mean feat, and yet she looked as capable and clear-eyed as when he had first walked in. It must be some Force mumbo-jumbo, as Atton would have so eloquently put it.

"Seeing as we're here for information, do you have a plan or is it every man for himself?" he enquired levelly, finally taking a grateful swing of his ale.

"Well, I wasn't really planning on you having to do anything, Bao, other that look dangerous. I was going to… talk with a few of the local and find out what I can. Your time is your own, feel free to do what you wish… as long as it doesn't involve me dragging you back to the _Hawk_, inebriated or otherwise."

"I wouldn't dream of it, General."

She grinned at him cheekily, set her glass down on the bar with a thump and disappeared into the massing crowd of patrons. The billowing clouds of cigarra smoke and jarring lighting made sure that Bao lost sight of her in seconds. With a resigned sigh he ordered another drink from the barman and found himself a secluded table, keeping a diligent eye out for black hair and gold eyes.

**_

* * *

Red Rancour _Cantina****Dance floor…**

Falen wove deftly through the thronging mass of bodies that moved around her. All swayed and jumped and danced to the fast-paced techno music that was so loud it nearly deafened her. It felt strangely nice to be back in a cantina again, it was territory she knew and understood, and therefore easier for her to work to her advantage. She hadn't been in a cantina since the _Harbinger_ had caught up with her on that small mining world, and even then the majority of the ones she had seen were small and rather run-down.

She had the distinct impression she was being followed. It was neither Atton nor Bao, she could sense them both like beacons and neither was close enough. Atton was ahead at the pazzak tables and Bao was far behind her, back by the bar. She looked around her discreetly, trying to find her stalker. To her left were two pretty Twi'lek's, tattooed in pinks and reds, dancing and surrounded by a ring of adoring men. Further off to the right were a few Duros all seated at a table, their bulbous red eyes almost black in the blue lights.

Falen suppressed a shiver and moved on; leading whoever had been stupid enough to follow her on a merry chase. She pushed through the dancing crowds, headed towards the cantina refreshers, then slipped back into the crowd, weaving around in circles until she was satisfied. She then grabbed a lone table, half in shadow. There she sat for moments, watching the crowd to see if anyone had followed thus far. People milled and danced yet there were none that looked suspicious.

Safely hidden she surveyed the large cantina in detail, looking for prey as it were. She spotted Bao almost instantly, seated at a table not far from the bar, an attractive Lethan Twi'lek beside him. It looked like the pair was engaged in heavy conversation. Falen smiled to herself at the sight and continued her survey. Next thing to catch her immediate attention was Atton, seated at the pazzak tables. The scoundrel was engaged in a 'rousing' game of pazzak. From where she sat it certainly looked quite… _rousing_.

He sat reclined, sleazy grin plastered across his handsome face which had suddenly become less handsome, one hand behind his head while the other held a fan of brightly coloured cards. Across from him sat a green twi'lek woman. It would be a stretch to call her pretty, and the alien's trashy make-up looked like it had been applied with a hand shovel. The woman's foot was rubbing up and down the inside of the scoundrel's leg, her eyelashes exaggeratedly fluttered, a sickening amount of cleavage displayed as she leant forward to retrieve a card and her lips animated far beyond than what was need for normal coherent speech. Falen felt her stomach turn.

How could a woman so debase herself for the attentions --the sexual attentions-- of an obvious egotistical womaniser like Atton Rand?

So distracted as she was in her mental rant about all Atton's disgusting narcissistic male qualities Falen did not notice the spacer seat himself at her table.

"Hey sweet thing." The spacer said, "What you doing sitting here all by yourself?"

Falen saw her opportunity. The man was already half drunk. All she needed to do was lead him along with a little sugar, get him to buy her another drink, and then pry him for information. She could have done it in her sleep. She had, after all, spent years perfecting it in the Outer Rim. Getting spacers blind drunk and then 'relieving' them of all their credits and other valuables in games of pazzak had almost become a second nature.

"Waiting for a spacer like yourself." She cooed in reply, ignoring the feeling of nausea. She hated playing the floozy.

"Ahaha!" the spacer laughed uproariously loud, showing a number of rotten teeth. Her stomach turned once again. "You're an eager little space kitten aren't you?"

"Buy me another drink and I'll show you how eager I am." She shot back saucily, rolling her eyes on the inside. _How very cliché…_

The spacer's eyes boggled and called over a droid waiter without pause. He ordered the drinks and turned to her with a grin, rather similar to Atton, yet far less appealing. At least Atton was a bit of a looker, this spacer looked like someone had used his face to hammer in fence posts.

She forced a sultry smile and began to pry the spacer for information. How long had he been on Nar Shaddaa? How was the smuggling trade? Who was the local Exchange boss? Were could she find him?

The spacer was all too happy –and drunk- to supply the information she asked for. All the while Falen kept slowly intensifying the amount of the Force she worked on the man, deepening his mental stupor and opening him wider for information.

"Been to the squid's base once," the spacer slurred, "filled with filthy shtinkin' Gamorreans! All of 'em smelling like a day old carcass that'd been left in the shun. Where was I? Oh, that's right. Sho… I'm deliverin' the squid's credits, right? Damn alien kills near half me crew 'cus I didn't bring him slaves instead! Kill you as soon as look at you those Exchange mob will…"

Falen kept up, dutifully making the 'ooooh's' and 'ahhhh's' of feigned interest. By now the spacer was so far gone in his drink she could have danced on the table and he wouldn't have noticed. Keeping one eye on the drunk and one on the cantina patrons Falen let her Force senses sweep the room for danger and anything worth investigating.

Something spiked her interest.

Atton. His emotions were squirming and writhing like a headless Corasaunt Conduit Worm. She couldn't determine individual feelings, yet the general presence was of anger, acrid and sharp, as if she could smell it. She turned ever so slightly in her seat, enough to see him from the corner of her eye. He was still at his pazzak table with the Twi'lek floozy, yet those brown eyes were cast in her direction, bright with his emotion. She was concentrating on ignoring the heat of his gaze when something surprised her.

It was the droid with their drinks.

The spacer accepted them without a word, passing her a Correlian Brandy with a sickening grin. Just to spite the man, revelling in the shock value, Falen skulled the spirit, ignoring the burning sensation as it passed down her throat. The spacer watched gape-mouthed.

"Where have you been all my life?" He said, grinning once again. Falen was instantly thankful for the table between them. She was beginning to tire of the man, and disgusted about how much she sounded like Kreia; she knew how to dispose of him.

"You see those pretty Twi'lek's over there?" she asked sweetly pointing to the dancing aliens with the pink and orange tattoos. The spacer nodded vaguely. With his attention now focused completely on the dancing women Falen drew deeply on the Force. "I think they need someone to dance with."

""I think they need someone to dance with." The spacer repeated, his eyes glazed and distant, mind bending under the power she plied him with. No more time or energy wasted the spacer rose and walked towards the two Twi'lek's, joining in with the numerous men already dancing with them.

Falen watched him leave with a relieved sigh and rewarded herself with a small triumphant smile. As much as she hated manipulating those with weaker minds, in this case in was necessary. At least, that's what she told herself, burying the guilt and the silent accusation of Atton's stare as it bored into her back.

**_

* * *

Red Rancour _Cantina: Dance floor… **

Bao skirted around the mass of dancers, a drink in his hand. Some women waved and beckoned from the dance floor, but he politely ignored them. Dancing had never been an interest of his. The fact that he danced like a one-legged Mandalorian also had great sway in deterring him. His focus was set on a table not far ahead, half in shadow, its only occupant staring into the crowd with faraway eyes and her chin resting on her hand.

The soldier in him didn't like the fact that the General sat so exposed and oblivious to the malicious mutters of the non-human patrons. The rest of him though was smart enough to remember that she was a Jedi –or at leat, had been- and had been trained from her youngest years as a warrior. If anything she could look after herself. Still, it did not stop him from being cautious and alert. Her earlier joke about the trash compactor had set him on edge.

Falen saw him approach and smiled; a warm smile, yet somehow strained. She was clearly bothered by something.

"Having fun?" she asked as he sat down next to her.

"Not as much as you it seems, General." He replied evenly, a smile playing across his tattooed face.

She chuckled. "Oh yeah. My life's the centre of the party right now."

"_So bitter, so sharp…" _Kreia's voice passed though her mind briefly, like fingertips brushing the surface of an inert pond. _"Keep these traits close, Exile. They will serve you better than any blade…"_

Bao recognised the vacant look that washed over Falen's face. "Kreia?" he asked sympathetically.

Falen nodded. "Yeah, it's really quite unsettling how easily she can get inside my head. Its like I have no say as to what she does… like my mind is not my own anymore…"

There was nothing Bao could say to that, nothing in his own experience that was even comparable. So, he changed the subject. "General, I know you're after the Quarren, Visquis, but I found out some interesting things today."

The General fiddled idly with her empty glass, suddenly looking very tired. "It's not going to be as easy as I thought, Bao. As it turns out there's another Quarren. This one's called Sasquesh, who's controlling the Refugee quad. I get rid of him and then I get Visquis' attention."

"Well, I found out something that may help, even if it only gives us a few credits. While I was on the docks today, I was visiting a parts dealer when I overheard a Gran and an Aqualish talking about the local Hutt, Vogga. Apparently the Hutt has a large fortune hidden in his chambers, there on the docks. The chambers are guarded by Kath hounds. But Juma could put them to sleep in seconds."

Catching on to what he was saying, she grinned, the prospect of lightening the credit pouch of Hutt too irresistible to ignore. "Let me guess? We have to figure out a legitimate reason to be there?"

"Way ahead of you, General." He pointed across the dance floor to a male Rutian Twi'lek, his lekku flicking angrily at the line-up of women before him. "He is Vogga's Domo. I was talking to an ex-dancer for Vogga earlier. She says the Domo has been searching for a new dancer for weeks, he's almost at the end of his lekku."

"Why Bao, how unlike you." She teased, "I'd never thought you'd be the one suggesting an elaborate scheme to rob a Hutt. Atton definitely, but never you."

"Vogga won't need those credits, General. The refugees do." He felt a surge of pride at her approving smile.

"I couldn't agree more, but, you're saying I'm going to have to pose as a dancer to get into Vogga's immediate chambers?" she didn't look too well disposed to the idea.

Bao shrugged. "It's the only way I can see, General… Unless you want to storm the place with only four people and a droid."

She chuckled. "You know? I think we could actually pull that off…"

"With you I'm sure we could, General," he pushed the point, anxious to hear her answer. "But what about Vogga, shall we go? It's up to you. You're the one who's going to have to…well…" he trailed off, unsure of how to word the next sentence. How could you tell you General that she was going to have to dance for a Hutt?

"That I'm going to have to shake it for a Hutt?" she amended nonchalantly.

"That sums it up perfectly." He replied, burying his face in his drink so she could not see his discomfort. Despite her obvious casual acceptance of what he was proposing he felt uneasy and slightly embarrassed. She was his General after all.

Falen saw his disquiet and was flattered. "I'll go talk to this Domo, Bao. But, don't tell Atton anything about this dancing job. If he finds out about it he'll be at me like a Bantha at a feed trough."

Bao laughed at the image. "Of course, General. He won't hear a word about it from me."

"Good man!" she said, patting him on the shoulder and rising from her chair at the table. "I'll be back as soon as I've arranged something with this Twi'lek."

She soon disappeared across the dance floor. Bao watched her leave, surprised when Atton slipped into Falen's so recently vacated chair. The scoundrel looked unhappy, his face drawn and lines of displeasure tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed far more haggard than when Bao had last seen him, the jarring cantina lights adding age to the man's face. Was this what Nar Shaddaa did to people?

"Where's she going?" Atton asked, his eyes never leaving the spot from which Falen had disappeared.

"Dancing, she said." Bao replied evenly, masterfully keeping a straight face. It was a half-truth after all. He watched Atton uncertainly, unsure as to what the scoundrel's sudden appearance indicated. _What games were those two playing?_

**_

* * *

Red Rancour_ Cantina: Bar…**

Falen stood near the bar, freshly ordered drink in hand, watching the show before her. The Twi'lek Domo Bao had pointed out earlier now had a line of auditioning women before him. One, a pastel yellow skinned beauty, was dancing… and not too well. Her every movement was forced and rigid, without the usual effortless grace twi'lek women were born with. Her hips were moving out of time with her arms, and jerking rather than rolling.

"No no no, that won't do at all! Where did you learn to dance, girl? Do you realise the insult your stumbling would be to Vogga?" The Domo cried, throwing up his blue hands in frustration, his lekku flicking madly. Falen couldn't understand the language Twi'lek's used communicating with their lekku's, but from the hurt look on the young dancers face, the Domo wasn't being very nice.

"Get out of here; I have no use for an uncoordinated dancer with the appeal of a drunken rancour." He gestured towards the cantina door ardently, "I've seen enough for today. All of you can go. What are you waiting for? Go!"

The hopeful's hung their heads and walked away, all except the yellow that held her head high, glaring at the Domo, and left with some dignity. Falen instantly felt sorry for the lot of them. The Domo had no need to be so cruel towards them all.

"She didn't look that bad…" Falen said, walking towards the alien.

The Domo shook his head, rubbing at tired eyes, "Indeed, she looked much worse! Never have I been subjected to a dance as that one. Disgraceful for a Twi'lek to dance like that…" The last words were almost an afterthought. He sat down heavily at his table, burying his face in a drink. "Vogga will be furious if I cannot find new entertainment for him. His last dancer was a relation of mine, and thus placed much of his displeasure upon my shoulders."

He sighed and shook his head, finally looking at her for the first time. His eyes widened and he grinned. "But perhaps my luck is changing, look at what fate has brought me! You yourself are quite a specimen. Perhaps you would like to work as one of Vogga's dancers? Perhaps we can work out an arrangement of some sort?"

Falen nodded easily enough, grinning with triumph on the inside. _She hadn't even had to do anything!_ "What sort of arrangement?"

"Quite simple." Said the Domo, his eyes eager, "All you would have to do is bring a willing female that would meet Vogga's standards to me. If she could dance well enough, then I would take her to dance for Vogga, and you would be paid in return."

"What about me?" she offered.

"Stand up, pretty." The Domo murmured, eyeing every curve and angle of her body as she stood and completed a little complementary twirl. "You would do very well." He appraised, now grinning from lekku to lekku. "Vogga will be mightily pleased with you."

"That's great," Falen said flatly, disgusted at the thought of what Vogga would be thinking about her. "When do I start?"

"The night after tomorrow. Vogga's current dancer will last till then, pretty. I shall meet you here at nightfall, hmmm?"

"Of course" she said, taking her leave with a demure bow of her head, the Domo giving her a slight smack on the rump as she walked away. Falen bit back on a snarl and for once let it slide. She couldn't afford to ruin it all now. Sighing, she swayed off into the crowds, back towards where she had left Bao at the table.

**_

* * *

Red Rancour_** **Cantina, Dance Floor…**

Bao sat, bored out of his mind. Atton, still in Falen's chair, seemed also as bored, yet slightly pensive. The pair stared out to the dance floor, both silently waiting for their leader's return. Moment's passed and nothing was said between them. Soon Falen's dark hair in its distinctive style was visible in the crowd, weaving this way and that in their direction. Both men perked up at her appearance.

"Well, done you two look like fun." She teased. Falen smiled at them both, becoming somewhat forced when she looked to Atton. Her cheeks were prettily flushed from the heat of the dance floor and her hair tousled. She sat down on the other side of Bao, opposite from Atton. An uncomfortable silence ensued. Atton stared out into the crowd, as if he had never been looking for her return, and Bao turned his eyes to Falen, snorting with mirth as she rolled her eyes at him.

The table passed into an uncomfortable silence, all eyes falling on those dancing out before them. Bao watched two female Twi'lek's dancing, their bodies winding and grinding together, surrounded by a ring on onlookers. He voiced the question in his mind before he even realised it. "Why is it that women always end up dancing with other women?"

Falen was the first to answer; it was for the best probably. Atton's answer would have most likely been crude. "Mating rituals." Falen said, chuckling at the pair of raised eyebrows. "The women dances, display, seduce… the male watches and selects. Simple really."

"Simple… of course…" Bao murmured absently.

**

* * *

A/N: I know I said these next chapters would come fast, I'm sorry. My writer's block turned into a brick wall, that brick wall then turned around and beat me around the head with a bit of 2x4. Falen just stood there laughing at me… (grumbles) I've also been distracted with the creation of my own forum and the fact that I have to get a full-time 9 to 5 job. . Anyway, I've already made a start on the next chapter, in which a lovely young Miraluka makes her first appearance. No promises this time, but I'll have it up as soon as I can manage.**


	12. Simple Shadows

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 11: Simple Shadows 

* * *

_Life is never silent._

_It swirls and dips and dives and crashes. A sea of sound upon which I am stranded._

_I hear it all, the sound of colour, the thrum of life, the pitch of emotions constantly changing and shifting, the deep rumble of death and the inexorable silence that follows. I hear the galaxy's agony, its screams of pain. But above all, I hear her. In such cacophony she is but nothing; insect noise, the whisper of breath as it leaves lips. But she is there… and she deafens me. _

_And in hearing so now must I answer. He has pushed me forward, nothingness driving me with His hunger…His very need. I am but an echo of oblivion, animated by the sheer force of His will. I am pressed to extinguish her noise, but to preserve it… I am pulled. Life has a purpose for me, far greater than that of my Master. One far more rewarding than the eventual nothingness my master desires. For me there will be silence, I must trust, but for the galaxy…there will be fulfilment, it will be made whole._

_She is everything, will be everything. Even as I am at such a distance from her I can sense the great mass, layers upon layers, a veritable spider web of plans and ideas and hopes and dreams that run through her. Whether she knows it or not, many, many plans and lives depend upon her survival. This is what life has shown me. The Force bellows its demands in my ears… my life for hers. That is the order. And so do I obey. _

_Her ship is silent and empty, a twin to my heart. My feet are silent on the metal, yet I hear the crunch of ashes. I walk in the shadow, calm and at home in its embrace. I cling to my darkness feebly, knowing that maybe I will die this night. _

_Would it be best?_

_I cannot deny that final peace would be a dream I have laboured after for years. If she would end this noise I would be most grateful, but still, it is in her hands. _

_Will she kill me? I can only dream…_

_For I am shadow, once my Masters faded puppet and now I move to the push and pull of a greater force. _

_I am nothing…shadow…a simple shadow…_

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa: Refugee Sector…**

Nar Shaddaa was surprisingly quiet for this time of night. Beggars and vagrants had retreated to alleyways and shadowed corners, thugs and enforcers had long ago disappeared into Nar Shaddaa's darker heart to earn credits for their employers and to set examples to the weak and defenceless. Even the streetwalkers, men and woman of the pleasure business, had gone from their usual haunts to seek out new clientele. The cantinas were full, and the streets empty, a rare and beautiful occurrence on the Smugglers Moon.

Two figures, a man and a woman, walked the deserted streets side by side, their faces free of the oppressive despair that marked so many of the Refugee Sector.

Bao-Dur walked straight-backed and ready, his stance and demeanour a silent challenge to any who watched from the unknown dark. Beside him Falen walked with an easy stride, her tight black jacket done up to her chin and her dark hair left loose for once, shifting in the night time currents that smelled of freighter exhaust and cheap love.

Falen drew in a deep breath, her unnatural eyes glittering as they caught the light of a passing glow strip. The Docks were not far away, and the _Ebon Hawk _waiting with beds and that delightful tea. The Exile was tired after a night steeped in corruption and decadence. All she wanted was to lock herself in the refresher and wash the smell of sin and lost hope from her skin.

Her eyes were raised, watching the multitude of flitting lights passing above their heads – the ever present traffic of Nar Shaddaa- in silent contemplation. Despite her personal feelings she had to reside on this planet for a time, and discover a clue to what the Force had planned for her. This 'grand destiny' that Kreia continued to mention. Falen wanted no destiny. She wanted to run and find some quiet corner of the galaxy in which she could live out the remainder of her life – as she suspected Revan had done. She wanted to grieve for the man she loved, her Malak, whom she had not known to be dead all these past years. Instead, the powers that be had claimed her, named her their champion and placed her feet upon a shadowed path. Falen did not want to, but she could not turn away from this call, the Force singing its sirens song into her heart, pushing her back into a life of servitude and self sacrifice.

Bao stirred, slowly removing his rifle from its holster over his shoulder. Falen was snapped from her reverie at his actions. Atton had stayed behind at the _Red Rancour_, bouncing some whorish woman on his knee, and in the scoundrel's absence Bao had taken it upon himself to play her bodyguard. Falen was both amused and flattered, but to save his pride she dared not raise the subject. Instead, she was content to walk in silence and be comforted by Bao's seemingly endless reservoir of calm.

The Zabrak cradled his weapon and eyed the dark mouth of one particularly large alleyway before nodding to Falen and resuming his place walking beside her.

They rounded a corner and the sight of the _Ebon Hawk_ rose to meet them. The ship looked vulnerable and exposed upon its borrowed landing pad, the prospect of a fiery death falling from the traffic above still probable, but Falen didn't really care. Right then, amongst the nauseating perpetual motion of Nar Shaddaa the _Hawk_ was a blessed sanctuary, something akin to home. She let out a grateful sigh and Bao chuckled, shouldering his weapon.

"Nearly there, General," he said, cool green eyes intensifying the sweet smile he offered. "I'm sure you can't wait to lie down. The amount of brandy you downed… I'm surprised you can walk at all."

Falen gave a surprised snort, caught off guard by Bao's sudden playful tone. "Oh that's nothing, Bao," she replied lightly, batting at the bigger man's arm. "A little more and I might have been in trouble, but right now? I'll live once I jump into the 'fresher and then my bunk."

"Well, that's certainly a relief." Bao shot back, grinning. "With the amount of people trying to kill you, it wouldn't be wise to make it easy for them."

The pair fell silent as they set foot upon the gentle incline of the _Ebon Hawk's _entry ramp. The interior was dark, the powered down systems leaving little light or warmth. Falen suppressed a shiver, pausing by the ramps controls momentarily, Bao-Dur moving past her silently, without the need for command or request. He had been a soldier, the routines were burnt into his mind whether he acknowledged them or not.

_First, secure the ship and assure the safety of the General. _

Falen did not follow him into the dim corridors, instead she remained by the ramp, to make sure that if anyone had indeed snuck on board, and Bao did find them, that they would not escape. She rested her hands on the hilts of her blades, stance nonchalant, her senses focused outwards. She could sense all life on the ship; Kreia, meditating in the cargo hold, Bao traversing the corridors, his rifle half raised and his body tense. And then… there was something else.

Inside her head, the buzzing began. The same buzzing that had been plaguing her for the past day. Only this time, it was much, much stronger.

Falen gave a soft, inarticulate sound of alarm and clasped her hands over her ears, giving her head a rough shake. The buzzing doubled. She grit her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut and tried concentrated on something else. Nothing worked. She couldn't even dampen the sound with the Force. Distressed, she took a few staggering steps forward in the hopes that she could reach Kreia and the crone would know how to stop the noise.

Now level with the two corridors, one leading to her dormitories, the other to the main hold, she stopped, something catching her eye. A shadow lingered briefly, before darting towards the dormitory, leaving behind nothing but the sense of darkness. Falen recognised the darkness, it was a familiar feeling, she had encountered in many times in her years during the Mandalorian Wars, and again at Peragus, fighting those dark- inhuman- assassins.

Instinctively she grabbed her blades, moving with some purpose. Her gait lost its staggering uneasiness, and she moved with determination, teeth clenched hard and eyes forward, her mind focused on anything other than the deafening noise that filled her head. Each step was of sheer will, the buzzing doubling as if in protest as she grew closer and closer to the closed dormitory door. She was panting now, chest heaving with the effort it took to snatch back control of her body from that invading clamour. The cold durasteel of the blast proof dormitory door was grey and implacable before her heated gaze. Falen snarled softly and forced herself to take one more step, reaching out a trembling hand to grasp at the door's mechanism. She wouldn't be beaten by whatever new Force trickery this was, nor by the dark monsters who wielded it upon her.

The instant her hand made contact with the cooled metal the buzzing stopped. Falen stood for seconds, mind blank and blinking surprisedly. She slipped sideways before she caught herself and pushed open the door, marching into the dark sleeping quarters with her two blades drawn, honed edges glittering as she turned and they caught some dim light.

Falen started as she noticed a woman kneeling in the far corner. The newcomer was dressed in linens of a deep purple, her eyes hidden behind a veil of gold and burgundy. Her head rose slowly, an elegant, practised movement, accompanied with such a still, sad sense of grace that Falen felt her heart ache at the sight of it. Even so, war and the life she had led had taught her to ignore such distractions.

"Who are you?" Falen questioned, walking slightly sideways, keeping her blades at a favourable angle between herself and the woman.

The intruder unfolded her hands, revealing the hilt of a lightsabre clutched determinedly in one hand. Instantly Falen tensed. _Sith! Assassin! Dark Jedi!_

"What are you doing here?!" She said, more forcefully this time, her blades lowered to a defensive stance. The woman rose smoothly to her feet, blood red sabre hissing to life. Falen bared her teeth, brandishing her blades and setting her feet for fast and bloody combat.

* * *

**Refugee Sector: **_**Galactic Star Apartments…**_

Atton sat in a dark corner of the dank apartment, staring mildly at the sleeping woman upon the large bed that dominated the room. He was seated upon a chair, the only other piece of furniture in the room, his elbows on his knees and hands dangling uselessly between his legs. The woman shifted under the covers and sighed, curling in upon herself. He grimaced at her movement and turned away, unwilling to look at his latest sexual conquest.

The woman was not special, beautiful or charismatic, there was nothing notable or remarkable about her to Atton's eyes, all that mattered was that she had been more that willing to accommodate him and his 'needs'. He had not even bothered to discover her first name; the term 'beautiful' had been enough to woo her.

He signed and shifted in his seat, pulling on his left boot, then his right. His head was a little muddled by all the juma he had drunk earlier, but still clear enough to make sure that he knew he needed to be out of here before she woke up. Atton made a point of never hanging around long enough to see his nightly women wake. It was uncomfortable and awkward; something that was essentially avoided by men like Atton.

In the semi dark he rose, slipping on his gloves and shading his eyes as a speeder flew past the window, the vehicles lights filling the room with a sudden burst of blinding whiteness. The sleeping woman gasped and shifted, rising alarmingly close to wakefulness. Swiftly Atton placed a hand on the rise of her hip, whispering platitudes in her ear. She was soon content and sleeping soundly, Atton letting out a relieved breath and turning to fasten his belt buckle.

All he carried out with an emotionless, businesslike air. This was a routine to Atton now. Atton took great pride in the effect he had on women. It was a skill he had nurtured for as long as he could remember, from when seducing women had grown from sport into a need; a need for distraction, a need for the mindless mechanics of meaningless sex. This silent need had lost its emotion after years of repetition, now it was a habit, like an addiction, a lustful little demon sitting on his shoulder that could not be removed, even if he had wanted to. Losing himself in a woman was truly the only way Atton knew how to deal with things when the memories became a little too clear.

Atton turned and walked to the door, snatching his ribbed jacket from the back of the chair as he passed. As the smooth leather settled around his shoulders familiar scents that clung to the clothing caught his attention. There was the smell of cigarra smoke, the sickly sweet fruity smell of juma juice and the slightest undertone of Falen. Her scent had clung to the jacket since he had lent it to her a few days back. The smell of her brought back thoughts of her, and thoughts of her brought back the image of her sitting there, encouraging the attentions of that spacer back in the_Red Rancour_. His stomach gave the briefest of turns, a sickly clench. Forcefully, and with great effort, Atton kept his mind from analysing that reaction. It was not something he really wanted to entertain right now. Thoughts of Falen were not what he wanted, not with some nameless woman lying on the bed, her scent still clinging to his skin.

He cast one last, almost regretful almost apologetic, look at the sleeping woman and slipped from her room silently, leaving no trace of himself behind.

* * *

_**The Ebon Hawk….**_

Her vision was blurred and shaky, a hindrance in the fast-paced fighting. She had to rely on her instincts, a lifetime of training, to guide her though the thick of it. The sound of her foe's footwork, the familiar hum of the lightsabre guiding her blades to where they needed to be. It was extremely difficult, but Falen managed to maintain her ground against her skilled enemy. The veiled woman; who was no more now than a red and purple blur, was skilled with her sabre, and had left her share of nasty wounds. Falen was slowly flagging, her movements sluggish against the elegant speed of her opponent.

She parried the assassin's forceful blow, which would have connected with the junction at her shoulder and neck, but it left her right flank exposed. The woman did not miss this minute weakness. Falen's breath rushed through her teeth in a sharp hiss as the lightsabre brushed against her shoulder, leaving black scorching and blistered flesh in a perfectly straight line. The smell of burnt flesh was now heavy in the air.

Falen lunged in desperation, dealing the assassin a mortal blow across the stomach. Blood bloomed black upon the burgundy robes, leaving the woman immobile with shock. Falen pushed her advantage, brining both vibroblades forward and pushing forward with all her strength. With a single, breathy gasp, she had won. The assassin was pinned. One blade pierced the soft flesh of her right underarm; the other was buried to the hilt in her hip.

"I win, Assassin." She hissed through gritted teeth.

The pinned woman shuddered, the gold of her veil glowing in the red light of her sabre and with one; smooth, swift movement she twisted her wrist and brought her blade down between Falen's own, the beam plunging deep into her upper thigh. Falen screamed as fiery agony tore up her thigh, burning away flesh and muscle and bone. She slumped as her leg gave out from under her and the robed woman pushed against her, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Falen landed on her injured leg, and screamed a second time as fresh pain washed over her. There was a noticeable _crunch_ as she landed, and fearing she had destroyed her knee joint Falen rushed to inspect the pain, only to find she had landed upon the assassin's lightsabre, only denting the outer casing but crushing the focusing crystal within.

"My lightsabre, you have destroyed it."

The woman finally spoke. Her voice was as eloquent as her fighting style, reminding Falen somehow of Bao and the eerie calm that accompanied his speech. She crawled towards Falen on hands and knees, a thin trail of blood making its way from the corner of her lips down her chin. "I yield… master. It is as I heard through the Force. My life… for yours."

"I will not kill you." Falen whispered as the woman prostrated herself before her, the back of her neck exposed for the executioner's blow. She could her heavy footsteps approaching down the corridor, fast and thundering.

"You must." She pleaded; hands open before her in supplication. "The alternative is only another death… and I would rather die by your hands."

Falen struggled to support herself on one struggling hand; the other reaching out to clasp one of the woman's outstretched hands determinedly. "Look, you're wounded. Stand, help is coming; they will get you to the medbay."

"I… have nothing to offer you. Your strength is superior… it is as I felt." She sighed, and fainted, her hand going slack in Falen's. The footsteps were outside the door and before she could blink Atton was beside her; calling her name, taking stock of her wounds, his cools hands rushing over the heated skin of her face and lifting her into his arms while Bao lent over the beaten woman.

"Help her." Falen ordered weakly, wincing as her injured shoulder bumped against Atton's.

"Of course, General." Was Bao's calm reply.

* * *

_**The Ebon Hawk…**_

Atton had been lost in not-thinking, his mind blissfully blank as he mounted the loading ramp of the Ebon Hawk. He was mildly surprised it was still open. It was nearly twelve on his chronometer and Falen being the little hellcat she was, she would have locked it on him by now. But the entranceway was empty, and somehow… eerie. Atton felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Knowing something was off he rushed into the garage, looking for Bao, only to find him missing. Worry beginning to grip the muscles under his breastbone he thundered down the corridor towards the far dormitory, passing the cargo hold on the way, noticing the door firmly locked. No doubt the crone still had herself locked up in there. 'Meditating' she said. Atton didn't believe her for a second. Planning murder seemed more appropriate. But it was Bao he wanted. They had an unspoken agreement between them; watch Falen when the other was not around. It was one Atton would hold the Zabrak to if this turned out bad.

He keyed open the door to the dormitory they had called their own and Bao shot from his bed with a hoarse cry of alarm, his fists raised. Bao lowered them as soon as he realised who stood in the doorway, instead running a frustrated hand across his horned pate.

"Atton? What are you doing? Close the door and let me sleep."

"Where is she?" Atton demanded, his instincts telling him something was wrong. He needed to know what.

"She said she was heading to the refresher then to bed." The Zabrak said, his own expression starting to mirror Atton's own. Atton liked Bao, he cottoned on quickly. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know…" Atton replied, turning slightly to stare back down the corridor, "But something _is_wrong."

The faintest of sounds echoed up the deserted and darkened corridor. It could have been nothing more that the internal air control systems whistling as they pumped clean air into the Hawk, it could have been the whirring of the damned droid as it worked repairing some part of the ship. But Atton knew better. He knew a scream when he heard one.

His feet were carrying him back down the corridor before he could will them to, bouncing slightly off the walls as he turned the corner into the garage too quickly. Bao was not far behind him, unsure of what was happening, but ready nonetheless. The scream that had lead them here had faded and both men stood in the centre of the garage, Atton's heart thundering and Bao's bare chest heaving with deep breaths. Moments passed in silence, before the slightest sounds of a scuffle reached their ears. There was half-scream and a heavy thud, the noise issuing from the nearby dormitory.

They burst into a run once more, heading towards the sounds with their fists ready and bodies tense if they needed to fight. Atton was the first to round the corner and see the dormitory door shut. He punched the entry button on the panel beside the durasteel door, rushing as he could hear Falen's voice on the other side. Her words were indistinguishable, but it was definitely her.

The door opened with a slight _whoosh_as the different pressures between the room and the corridor equalised. Atton rushed to Falen's side as she lay on the dormitory floor, propped up on one elbow, her face tight and strained with both pain and exhaustion. There was another woman, one he didn't pay much attention to; one he would normally have paid more attention to. She was the threat. His instincts were satisfied as he saw Bao making his way towards the strange woman, first checking her for weapons, and then rudimentarily checking her vitals.

The threat now removed he turned his attention to Falen, who was also watching the woman, but with a great deal of curiosity in her gold eyes. He too took her vitals, checking her pulse and breathing, taking mental stock of her injuries. There were burns and sabre scarring, the deepest of her wounds quite distressing, the flesh was burnt and blistered black, faint hints of white bone beneath visible beneath the grisly damage.

He tried calling her name, focusing her attention on himself, but she was too concerned about the woman on the floor, the one that Bao was examining. Atton hefted her into his arms, surprised he didn't hear any words of protest. Atton had come to learn that when Falen wasn't running her mouth, she was either in serious pain or seriously angry. He was going to put his credits on pain, judging by the nasty wounds that covered her.

"Help her," Falen ordered weakly, as if she were sitting atop a throne rather that cradled in his arms.

Bao acknowledged her order and pulled the exhausted assassin to her feet, looping his good arm around her waist and leading her from the dormitory to the medbay.

"Come on then gorgeous." Atton said with what he hoped was a reassuring grin, "Let's get you patched up. Are you sure you don't keep on getting yourself in these kinds of fixes just so I'll carry you around for a while?"

"Oh, go eat poodoo, Rand!" Falen snapped, cuffing him around the head. His jokes made her feel better, but there was no way she'd let him know it.

He shook off the abuse and continued to grin at her, "You know I love it when you beat me, Drax."

"You are unbearable, Atton." She muttered, crossing her arms and crinkling her strong nose in displeasure.

"That may be so, but I'd bet all my credits that you aren't thinking about how much pain you're in… are you?"

"I'm thinking of how painful it is being stuck here with you and your banthashit."

* * *

_**Ebon Hawk:**_** Medbay…. **

Atton set Falen gently down on the floor in the medbay, the single bed being taken by the unconscious assassin. He handed her kolto packs and bandages, knowing her well enough to let her tend to herself. Once he assured himself that she was well equipped to manage, he focused on the woman in the violet robes. Bao was stripping her down with his soldier's precision, removing robes, folding them neatly and examining her wounds. Her bare skin was a grizzly sight, covered, literally _covered_ in scars. He had thought Falen's body ravaged… but this woman... she had obviously suffered more that anyone should.

Her sight of her was like a sharp punch to the throat. Atton paled and his chest tightened painfully. He had done things like that to people, tortured them… hurt them, broken them. She reminded him too much of what he really was, of the monster he had buried deep inside, and for that he could feel only resentment towards her.

Falen slathered herself in kolto, bandaging up what wounds required it and using her own force abilities to aid the healing. Even so, it may take a day or so for everything to fully mend up. She sat on the floor, back against the wall, watching the two men tend to her would-be killer. By the look on both of their faces the woman was pretty badly hurt, although Falen couldn't understand why, she didn't think she had injured the woman too badly.

Atton was acting strange. He was oddly pale and breathy, his eyes slightly unfocused. He only watched as Bao mopped up the blood that was leaking sluggishly from her wounds, rubbing kolto into them, and applying pressure bandages. Falen almost wondered at this most unusual behaviour. She blinked and fought back a yawn, relaxing as the icy kolto gel soothed the burning wounds. Exhaustion settled heavily on her shoulders and Falen suddenly felt very sleepy, her curiosity at Atton's odd behaviour dimmed somewhat.

Bao murmured something as he went to remove the woman's gold veil, Atton reaching forward sharply and yanking the Zabrak's hand away from her.

"What's going on?!" Falen sat up, her attention caught at the tension and confusion writing between the pair of them.

Bao opened his mouth to explain, but Atton cut him off.

"She's a Miraluka. You never,_never_, look into the eyes of a Miraluka." The scoundrel all but whispered.

Falen glanced at him as if he were spare, extending her hand, silently demanding to be pulled to her feet. Atton obliged without thinking. He helped her to her feet and led her towards the gurney. There was a sharp intake of breath as Falen saw the extent of thick white scars that covered her assassin's skin. There was more scarring than skin. Like a burns victim, it was a sight that turned your stomach, but one that you can not look away from no matter how hard you tried. Falen's hand slid slowly to her own stomach, eyes wide as her own pain and suffering was dimmed dramatically.

"Why don't you ever look into the eyes of a Miraluka?" She asked quietly.

"Just... because. I just can't believe that one's right there. I didn't think there were any left in this part of the galaxy…"

"What's a Miraluka?" Falen asked the pair of them, feeling juvenile for having to ask. Revan had always been the brains when it came to these situations. Falen just healed and followed her surrogate big sister's orders. She looked at both of them, wanting to understand what this woman was… so that she could help her… somehow.

"They're a pretty secretive race." Atton spoke first, Bao seemingly happy to let him take the lead. "I heard that some of their kind become Jedi, but a Sith? That's… well, that's a new one. I'm not sure how you'd go about killing one. It'd be tricky. Looks like she was carrying her share of scars, though."

Falen reached out gingerly, fingertips brushing the woman's bandaged shoulder, sensing the pain and the horror pulsing out from underneath the linen bandage. She drew back sharply, taking an instinctive step closer towards Atton.

"I didn't want to hurt her." She whispered helplessly. "Something happened to me… changed me… made me angry."

She shook her head as if trying to shake the thoughts from her skull and moved to rush from the medbay.

"I'm... I'm heading to the refresher to clean myself up and maybe get some rest. Come and let me know if she wakes up."

* * *

_**The Ebon Hawk: **_**Refresher…**

The hot water streamed down her back and over her shoulders, easing the terrible aching there. Falen was practically asleep on her feet; taking a few moments break leaning up against the transparasteel with her eyes blissfully closed as the water massaged her body. She could forget everything that had happened in the past few days while she was in this small room.

Breaking her moment of nothingness Falen gently proded at her kolto-slathered wounds that were wrapped in water-proof plastic bandages. It was the oddest feeling, the icy cold kolto beneath her skin in contrast with the streaming hot water under which she stood. It made it hard to concentrate on anything other than the sensation.

Her fingers strayed from the plastic bandages and traveled across her skin, stopping to take stock of all her scars, new or old. She certainly had her fair share, but in quantity and viciousness, the Miraluka had her beat. Falen, in all her years, had never seen so many scars on one person. How someone survived so much trauma, how the _mind_ survived so much... Falen couldn't comprehend.

Her face thoughtfully creased she turned off the water and stepped out of the cubicle, drying herself quickly and slipping into the loose trousers and shirt she had found tucked in some storage cupboard and decided to take for her own. The turser cuffs dragged along the ground behind her, the dopey appeareance suiting her muddle-headed exhaustion.

Falen wrung the dropplets from her thick hair by hand, staring at herself in the mirror. Her eyesight was fine now, she couldn't understand how it had detieritated on her so badly during the battle with the Miraluka. She started to wonder about the unexplainable anger, and the buzzing that had drove her half mad.

"Stop it." She told her relfection firmly, The last thing she needed was to relive everything over and over, analysing until whatever sleep she could grasp slipped away from her.

"Making a habit out of talking to yourself now, Fal?"

"Atton! Don't you ever leave me the _frack_ alone?! The 'fresher isn't even sacred anymore!"

"Hey!" The scoundrel snapped back, stepping fully into the small washroom. "You were nearly gutted by an assassin twenty minutes ago, Gorgeous, and now you want to be alone? There could be more of them out there."

"Then I'll deal with them too..." She hissed through clenched teeth, almost nose to nose with the handsome peeping-tom. He kept his disarming grin in place, coutering her dark glare and reached out to tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear. Falen was suprised at the gentle contact. Surpised enough not to roughly enforce her 'no contact' rule.

"Enough of that, Drax. You're exhausted and injured. It's late and you need your rest. I know for a fact that the old witch is looking for you right now. She sent me after all." He shrugged, grin faltering slightly. "I, on the other hand, think you should be tucked up in your bunk, and you can bash heads with the crone in the morning."

Falen quirked an eyebrow and supressed her own grin. "What? This isn't some scheme to get me into bed, Rand? Flatter me with care and affection till I'm begging you to take me?"

He chuckled slightly -nervously- and swept a hand through his fringe. "Look, I'm just trying to look after you. We both know for a fact that you can't look after yourself... standing next to exploding cannons and blowing up planets. Someone has to stop you from killing yourself."

"How very chivalric of you, Atton." She replied sacrastically, nonetheless letting him grasp her elbow and lead her from the 'fresher and toawrds the dormitories.

"Hey, chivalry has nothing to do with it. You keep me alive, I keep you alive. That was the agrerement remember?"

"Ahhh, How could I forget?"

"Indeed. How could you?" Atton grinned, and held open the durasteel door of the dormitory to prevent it autoclosing behind her. "Now, get some sleep and don't lock the door. Bao and I will keep watch over the ship and wake you if we need you."

She nodded, accepting his words and gratefully falling down upon her bunk, cuddling herself into her pillow. It was moments before her eyelids fell shut and she drifted into sleep and the river. Little did Falen know that while she slept Atton sat outside her door, a cup of caffa and his pazzak cards keeping him awake throughout the night.

* * *

A/N: Ask and I shall deliver! Lol, biggest apologies to everyone for the major delay in posting, but i've always intended to keep this baby going. I've just been very distracted these past few months. So from now on posts shall be far more regular. 


	13. The Blood Remembers

**Wanderer's Redemption: Esoteric Pilgrim**

Chapter 12: 'The Blood Remembers…

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa: Refugee Sector, Slums…**

The man had spent the night awake and tense, his mind in an utter state of disbelief and turmoil, and his body unable to cope with such a shock. He paced the length of his small rented room; an old space cargo shipping container, rudimentarily renovated to house the poor and slaves of Nar Shaddaa. The man wiped his sweaty palms on his threadbare trousers and concentrated once more, reaching out through the Force to touch her. She was there, alive and close and _there_!

She was different, altered in an unexplainable way. The way she appeared to him was not what he remembered, but after nine long years of having the loss of her an emptiness inside his skull; the little black hole that her comforting presence had once filled; it was more joy than he could express with words to know that she was there. 

But with her return swarmed memories…

Memories of war and destruction, pain and suffering that were deafening, the darkness that had consumed him and the hatred that had driven him for so long. Overcome, he sat down heavily on his bed, head hanging low and hands dangling between his knees. Silent tears of joy formed at the corners of his blue eyes and trickled down his scarred face to drip off his chin. 

She had come back, his little Falen… returned to him.

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa: **_**The Ebon Hawk**_

Falen was awoken sharply by the door of her dormitory opening with the usual_whoosh_ of all pressurised doors. Atton stumbled unsteadily into her room, in one hand a mug of steaming tea, its scent already reaching her across the room. In his other hand were two pieces of thick brown Telosian wheat loaf and some plump green pears. He grinned at her from behind a third pear that was held firmly between his own teeth and walked across the room, handing her the mug and one of the bread slices, which was lightly buttered, before plopping himself down on the foot of her bunk. 

"Morning, sunshine!" He chirped once he had spat out the pear. Falen glared at him across the rim of her mug, her hair a messy black halo and her eyes smudged and blurry with sleep. She may be a Jedi, but she had never been a morning person. 

"What? No thanks? Here, let me help you… How 'bout, '_Atton, you sexy beast, thank you for bringing me this delightful breakfast feast._'" He parroted her voice, a devilish grin plastered over his face. 

Still scowling Falen reached out with the force and lodged the pear tightly back between his teeth. 

"There," she sighed with relief, ignoring his outraged glare and taking a small sip of her tea. "That's much better." 

It was moments before she finally eased up on the Force and allowed him to yank the pear from between his teeth. Atton massaged his jaw and took a bite of the pear, trying to look threatening in the process. Falen chuckled and carefully pulled herself up into a sitting position, her knees up against her chest and both hands full with breakfast. She ate stolidly through one piece of the wheat loaf and started upon a pear, unsurprised at how hungry she was. The amount of kotlo she had pumped into her body last night, the obvious side-effect was a massive appetite. Her body was making up for energy it had expended during her sleep, speeding up the healing process of her various wounds. 

Atton watched her eat with an open curiosity. For once, in the peaceful silence of the dormitory, he didn't feel the need to hide his interest in her. Falen returned his curious gaze, the mechanics of her eating never faltering while her unnatural eyes locked his own. He smiled slowly, enjoying the unspoken intimacy. Falen's lips curved in response. 

"Were your eyes always like that?" Atton wondered aloud, and instantly wished he could snatch those words back. 

The moment and intimacy shattered. The smile faded and her eyes became cold, composed and defensive. Atton knew instantly that he'd hit a nerve.

"That's none of your business," Falen snapped, rising from the bed and speaking to him with her back turned and body tense. "Leave please, Atton. I'll be on deck in a few minutes." 

He did not argue and gathered up the remnants of their meagre breakfast. It hurt him to see the relief in her eyes as he left the room. 

"I'm sorry." He murmured, pausing in the doorway. 

"Just get out, Atton."

* * *

_**Ebon Hawk**_**: Med Bay…**

Falen was still reticent as she stood with Bao-Dur and Kreia, watching the Miraluka assassin slowly wake. Atton had avoided her, she could tell he wasn't sure what he'd done, but he was being man enough to give her some room rather than press the matter. She had thought that kind of deep thinking beyond the scoundrel. After all, he liked to make out his mind never went further than his blaster and the fly on his trousers. 

"You should not have let her live," the crone said, her voice as bitter and prophetic as always. "She will be a burden, another mouth to feed and body to protect. She will most likely betray you. This is a great risk, Exile. Her Master will follow her, follow through her to you."

"For once, Kreia," Falen replied, too tired for diplomacy. "Keep you opinions to yourself. I for one don't care to hear you preaching so early in the morning."

Affront was stamped harshly with her wrinkles, but the old woman held her tongue. On the small medbay cot the assassin stirred, murmuring something, and shifting. Her wounds had healed cleanly enough, but like Falen, she would be left with more scars. The grey blanket was pulled up to her shoulders, her burgundy veil still in place even though she was naked underneath. Atton's warning -however odd- had seemingly struck Bao and he had not removed it. 

Bao, ever the gentleman, noted the Miraluka would wake soon and quickly bowed his head in Falen's direction and left the medbay. Kreia too, after moments of heavy silence turned and left, calling over her shoulder as she passed. 

"Come and speak to me once you are finished, Exile. There is much to discuss…" 

The sound of the medbay door closing was the final element needed to pull the Miraluka out of her healing sleep. She sat up quickly, combat instincts pushing her further than her body could handle. A pained cry escaped through her pale lips and she slumped back onto the bed. Falen placed a gentle hand on her injured shoulder and sent out comforting waves through the Force. Already she could feel the minute force bond developing between them, much like the ones that tied her to every other member on the ship, although each bond varied. This bond was like the finest thread, still very delicate. Falen sensed it for the moment, sensing it strengthen as she used more of the Force to calm the alien. 

"Do not push yourself,' Falen said, placing her spare hand behind the woman to ease her up gently into a sitting position. "Your body is still weak."

When it looked like the Miraluka could support herself Falen moved away to pick up her black and burgundy robes that sat neatly folded in the corner. She placed them at the end of the woman's bed, looking uneasily at the part of the veil where her eyes should be. Falen liked to look people in the eyes when she spoke to them. 

"Here are your robes. What is your name; I cannot call you 'assassin' forever." Falen asked as she sat down beside the robes at the end of the bed. 

The corner of the woman's mouth turned downwards, but she replied nonetheless. "My name is Visas."

"Tell me then Visas, how are you feeling?"

Visas gathered up her robes and cautiously slipped herself out of bed, and upon finding she could stand began to dress herself, uncaring of her nakedness. Once she was finished she looked in Falen's direction, her head bent deferentially. "I am able to serve. If we enter battle, I will fight and die alongside you." 

Falen's eyebrows jumped in surprise, but she maintained her composure. "That is not what I asked. I asked how you were feeling."

She could sense Visas' shock at her correction and the Force she applied to somehow lessen the growing bond, or at least stunt if for the moment. "I… have not heard that question for some time." She said cautiously, as if everything might fade before her. "My flesh is… healed; if that is the answer you seek." 

"I didn't mean to hurt you…" Falen said lamely, feeling as if the words were not enough. 

"I know." Visas said in reply, settling herself back upon the medbay cot gently and making sure to keep a suitable –deferential- distance between herself and Falen. "And I fear others will see mercy in your actions… and in my survival… and use it as a weapon to do you greater harm."

Falen shrugged off the warning and continued with her questions. "How did you find me?"

"I…" Visas lapsed into silence, lips pursed as she found the right words. "I felt you –heard you- through the Force. It was like a sound, upon the edge of hearing. And when I heard it, I found I could not ignore it." 

"What of your Master? Was he the one behind the attack on Peragus?" Falen asked, Kreia's warning returning to mind. '_Her Master will follow her; follow through her to you…'_

When Visas answered her voice was different, even more empty and distant than it had been before, Falen had not thought it possible. "My master did not cause the end of the planet you speak of. There are many factions within the Sith, all seeking to take what little remains in the wake of the Jedi Civil War. Where one moves, it is not always known to the others. But their purpose is the same – the death of all Jedi, everywhere. They believe you are the last of the Jedi, and their hatred for Jedi unites them. All their eyes are upon you, and it is a terrible, quiet darkness that pursues you."

Falen rose sharply off the bed, deeply unsettled by the Miraluka's tone. It was empty, yet promising, flat as if she were talking about something trivial rather than doom and darkness. "I will leave you now, no doubt you are tired and need your rest." 

"Forgive me," Visas called as Falen made for the door, "but before you go, I must ask. Why do you do this? Why do you seek to help me, teach me?"

"Because I believe you can be saved." _For if I cannot save you, then all are lost…_

Visas half-coughed, half-laughed. "So you say, but that is something I have not observed – or seen."

Falen rounded on the woman, feeling slightly insulted. "What does that mean!" 

"I remember little of my homeworld before I entered my master's service. It is not as it was, there is little left of such memories – or the planet itself."

Falen wondered what this had to do with her question but she sat when Visas motioned for her to do so, and listened intently as the woman shared her grizzly story. It was a tale of death on such a new scale that Falen was stunned. It was a new death, not by weapons or men, but through the Force. The silencing of everything, from the tiniest of creatures to whole planets. Falen shuddered, remembering her own terror at the sudden silence she had experienced upon the bloody fields of Malachor. 

"And he made me see. And for the first time I saw the galaxy. And I wished to die."

"He made you see?"

"To this galaxy, my world, absent the currents and spectrums of the Force, was nothing but crude matter, rock, flesh, emptiness. He showed me the flickering of life on other planets. The mass of beings that swarm through the empty places of the galaxy. To see such creatures, disconnected from themselves, their world, and their place in it, unable to see the currents and how they affected everything around them." Her voice was far-away, no doubt reliving the events. They were the kind that one would never forget. 

"And why did your master show you this?" Falen asked, enchanted by the truth and terror of her story. 

"He showed me to make me believe in his cause. He convinced me the galaxy, all life must die. He fed upon its ugliness, it's screaming, and in its place, he left silence… and where there was chaos, he brought stillness… and order." 

_Stillness…and order. _Like her own stillness? Like her own silence? To remove the Force was to remove life and to remove life was to impose order… and stillness. Falen felt a deep fear consolidating in her belly. This war was not about removing the last Jedi… it was about removing the very Force from the galaxy. 

"I'll be going now." Falen said quietly, feeling nauseas.

Visas nodded solemnly and rolled over, readying for a meditative healing sleep.

* * *

**Cargo Hold…**

Falen had ignored Atton's concerned looks and Bao's questions as she had rushed from the medbay and off to find the Kreia. There was much to discuss, and much more to understand and she was sure Kreia had the answers. She always did, if you could wade through all the words to find them. 

Kreia was waiting for her, perfectly poised in her mediation position on the floor of the cargo hold, knees crossed and hands folded. Hooded head bowed in thought, she did not react when Falen entered suddenly. 

"You know what these Sith are up to, don't you? You've known for quite a while!" Falen all but hissed at the elderly woman. "It's not me they're after, it's the Force. Somehow using me to get to the Force…" 

"You have befriended the seer." Kreia replied calmly, as if Falen had not spoken at all. 

All Falen's fear and frustration crashed against her resolve like waves in a rough sea. Kreia had the upper hand in this particular discussion. She had the knowledge, so she had the power. Knowing this game well -she had learnt its intricacies at Revan's feet- Falen bit back on her urgency and calmed herself. Finally asking, "Why do you call her a seer?"

"Her species do not see as we do. They perceive the galaxy through the Force… and it is how she found you. It is a rare gift, squandered on her people." Her lips thinned at the thought of such gifts bestowed on the unworthy, and motioned for the Exile to sit before her. Falen obliged and assumed her meditative pose, legs folded neatly beneath her. 

"The Sith carry battle to you, and you spare them. And as we travel, the empty places of the ship are filled. I hope your thoughts on this matter are clear. If you take her on as a servant, know that the Sith meet their end at the hands of their apprentices. It is not something I would wish to happen to you. This one you have saved… has another master. Though blind, she has ties to darkness. Her presence is a threat to us. To you. Do not under estimate her… or her loyalty."

"Ties to her master perhaps? And I intent to follow that bond to its source when the opportunity presents itself." Falen said, happy with her own skills of deduction. 

"Then you are learning." Kreia replied, her lips curving into a somewhat eerie smile. 

"Her planet was wiped out; it was the only colony of her people in this sector of the galaxy." Falen said thoughtfully, hear head full of what she knew of Visas and Miraluka. 

"And what do you make of that?" 

"It seems a Force-sensitive world has been obliterated." Falen replied gravely. Once sector of space blind to the Force… not that there were many eyes left to begin with… 

"You are right to trust your instincts. Something is wrong… it is only a matter of discovering what - and why. If your instincts lead you to an answer, seek me out. Perhaps we will discuss it more." It was an obvious dismissal, but Falen had not finished. 

"I had other questions." She said determinedly. 

"Ask and I will answer." Kreia replied, her voice sounding weary. 

"When Visas attacked, she did something to my eyesight." Falen said, uncertain how to explain what had happened to her during that battle.

"She did nothing to your eyesight that was not already there. She has forced this upon you, but crude methods are markings of the Sith. Close your eyes." Kreia ordered and Falen did as she was told, curiosity winning out. 

"Feel the ship around you. The welding of the droid as it goes about its work." Kreia's voice took on a different sound, but not one unfamiliar to Falen. It was common for Jedi to change as their minds left their body to flow with the currents of the Force. She followed the older woman's lead and allowed her consciousness to expand beyond herself. She could feel everything, see and hear and know all at once. It took great concentration to cut out the racket and focus on a single sound or entity. Crewmembers were like beacons of noise and light and heat inside her mind as she wandered down the _Hawk's_corridors. She followed the lure of Kreia's voice until she concentrated on T3. The droid was not visible through the Force, but she could hear him. 

"Hey, T3 has a stuck motivator." 

"_Shhhhh..._" Kreia hissed. "Now stretch out. Hear the rumble of hyperspace, the hum of the hyperdrive."

The engine was warm, so warm. But she could not see it. Only hear it. 

"Hey, I can hear a catch in it. It's not fully fixed."

"Ignore distractions, and focus on my voice. The breathing of the blind one as she meditates in the darkness. Now listen deeper. Past her breathing… and listen."

The Miraluka was a violet colour. Smudged around the edges and the colour faded in some places. Falen had heard of Jedi seeing colours tied to other Force-sensitive beings. She had not thought much on the subject until now. The occasional red flare bloomed among the violet. Falen guessed these were the dark ties Kreia spoke of. She then focused her hearing. The alien's breathing was deafeningly loud and then, like the slightest whisper she heard words. They floated disembodied through her mind, yet they were spoken in Visas' voice…

"…_As my feet walk on the ashes of Katarr, I shall not fear, for in fear lies death, and…"_

"I heard her thoughts!" Falen exclaimed, amazed and proud. 

"You are strong indeed… what you have heard were surface thoughts only, but it is something that masters have trained for years and years and never learned." Kreia's voice reflected her pride in her student.

"But… how did I do it!"

"That is not the real question you should ask - is such listening enough to perceive the world around you? It is not. Because to listen to the thoughts of another is much like attempting to see the universe with only your eyes. It is equally limiting. Now leave me be. I must rest." Her tone was firm, this time leaving no room for argument. Well, almost none…

"You still haven't answered my first question." 

"I cannot answer that question for you, Exile. You must discover your own answers. Now go."

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa: Refugee Sector, Slums…**

Falen had always found that helping others alleviated her frustration or stress. Not because she set herself above them in the act of helping, but because she could always see that there were others with worse problems, and hers would always seem trivial in comparison. So she helped the needy, and Nar Shaddaa was never short of the needy and impoverished. 

It disgusted her to see the conditions in which many were forced to live. Old shipping containers with makeshift beds were the closest things to houses that the Refugee's had. Many had not had proper homes for nigh on ten years, always running from war. First the Mandalorian's then the Jedi. It was deeply shaming to see what conditions Revan had indirectly forced these people into; the hate and desperation that hung around the sector in a great miasma. 

So she made her amends, helping whoever asked. Tending to the sick or sparing a few credits, engaging in 'aggressive negotiations' with mercenaries and confronting the local Exchange mogul Quarren, Saquesh, that had kidnapped a woman's daughter in compensation of missed payments. And met his end at her feet. 

Falen, Atton, Bao and Visas made there way back through the confusing tunnels of the Exchange offices with the small girl safely in the centre of their part, stinking like the Gamorreans they had just fought, but all –in their own way- feeling satisfied with what good they had accomplished. The little girl Adana was brash and strong-willed and instantly took a liking to Falen. She walked a step behind her the whole way, asking questions on how life was to be a Jedi. 

"Have you killed many bad guys? Where is your lightsabre? I saw a man with a red one once… Was yours red!" Adana asked, leaning forward to tug on Falen's sleeve when she didn't receive an answer. 

If any of her companions could have seen her face they would have understood her hesitance. It was marked with pain and confusion, lips pressed thin and eyes hard. The buzzing was back, and far worse than ever before. It was a sign of her strength that Falen remained upright and walking in a straight line. She had been sure that Visas had been the cause of the noise in her head, but now, through their even increasing bond, Falen could sense that she was not the source. 

At her lengthy silence Atton finally spoke up, putting an end to Adana's incessant tugging. "It was yellow wasn't it gorgeous? I remember you telling me once that it was yellow…" 

"You should not disrespect the Exile with such a demeaning title as 'gorgeous'." Visas snapped at the pilot. 

"I'll call her what I damn well feel like!" He retaliated. 

"Atton calm down…" Bao-Dur intervened, sensing Falen's withdrawal from the situation. She was usually the only one that could control the scoundrel enough to shut him up, but Bao hoped to try. Atton glanced at him, and Bao seized his opportunity. 

"Can't you see something is wrong?" He said quietly, gesturing towards Falen's stiff back. 

Atton forgot his quarrel with the Miraluka instantly and moved to Falen's side, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder - one she shrugged off instantly. She ignored his concerns and doggedly avoided his questions, leading them back through the slums to the cargo container that Adana and her mother, Nadaa, called home. Adana raced through the crowds and launched herself into her mother's arms, both weeping with joy. 

Falen accepted Nadaa's profusions of thankfulness with a tight smile, Atton standing behind her in a sullen silence. She refused the woman's few credits and said her goodbyes, staggering slightly as she walked away. Atton steadied her with a firm hand above her elbow and Bao also quickly moved to her side, leaving Visas behind to stare off into the crowd, her head titled slightly to one side in obvious curiosity. 

"Are you feeling sick, General?" The Zabrak asked, not waiting for her answer to rummage through his packs for some Kolto strips. 

"I'm fine, Bao. There is something wrong with the Force. It's just shaking me up a bit. That's all." She replied, stopping for a moment to close her eyes and massage her temples.

"Exile…"

"Hey!" Atton spoke over Visas' soft voice. "How come you answer his questions and not mine!" 

"Atton please…" Bao said exasperatedly, glancing at the dangerous glare that had formed on Falen's face. 

"No. I want to know what's going on here… between you two." He said.

Falen's face went slack with shock –the buzzing forgotten- and Bao had to drop his eyes. She wanted to slap his for such a ridiculous accusation, both her hands clenching and unclenching. Atton quickly realised he had made a mistake and opened his mouth to speak but Falen cut him off. 

"Because I trust Bao-Dur, Atton. Because I know he has no _amorous_ agenda!" 

"Exile…"

"So that's it is it?" Atton cried, embarrassed that she had caught him out and hurt at her lack of respect for his genuine concerns. "You think I'm hanging around –helping you- just for a _fuck_!"

The crowd of refugee's watched on with avid interest, the commotion a welcome break from their monotonous despair. This time Falen did slap him. Hard. It looked as if Atton might raise a hand to retaliate, and Falen lashed out with the Force to impede him. He simply shrugged of the Force blow and stepped closer, leaving Falen amazed at his resistance. 

"_Exile!"_

"_What!"_ Falen yelled, rounding on the woman in her anger. 

"That man is watching you…" She said calmly, motioning with her delicate chin in his direction. 

Falen intended only to glance quickly, some admirer was not her concern. Not when Atton had yet to be dealt with. The man was simply a hooded figure between to cargo containers, but in the seconds before her gaze left him he removed the hood of his cloak. 

Her heart stopped and the world crashed around her. 

There was a face she knew so well. A man she loved deeply. One she hadn't seen in nearly a decade. One she hadn't expected to see ever again. He should have died in the Jedi Civil War…

His blue eyes were bright with tears and emotion. His face was an exact of her own. Masculine to her feminine. Their eyes identical, apart from the colour, the long, sharp nose –although his was slightly bent from a repeated break- the high cheekbones and the pointed chin. He was taller than her by a handful of inches, broad-shouldered and well-muscled. A jagged scar ruined his lips, turning what would have been a smile into a lopsided grin. He wore dirty clothes. Far from suiting the man he was… who he had been. 

Falen returned his grin and ran through the crowded refugee's, pushing them out of her way until she could throw herself into the open arms of her brother. 

"Fal," He whispered, still disbelieving. "You're alive. I hadn't thought to hope in so long…" 

"Vynn…" She chocked out his name, tears staining the cloth of his shirt. 

He pushed her backwards to get a closer look at her face and kissed her on the forehead. "How I've missed you."

"How did you survive? I though Revan wiped out the last of the Jedi! The Sith most certainly believe I am the last…"

She did see his grimace or the pain in his eyes. "I managed. There will be time enough for our stories. I am not letting you out of my sight again!"

Atton watched on in despair as Falen threw herself into the man's arms. He knew him well, well enough to be worried. His stomach tied itself in knots before dying in a most painful way. All the work Atton had put into hiding what he had been was now most certainly undone by the man's most unfortunate appearance. The need for a drink overwhelmed him and he slinked off into the crowds to find a cantina. Gods, he needed one. No doubt tomorrow Falen would find him and try to take his head. He did not want to die, but he did not want to hurt her either…

* * *

**A/N: WOW A BROTHER! faints **


End file.
